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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27404158">Hearts and Minds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticSpren/pseuds/CrypticSpren'>CrypticSpren</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A bunch of revolutionary manumission abolitionists, Alethi Politics, Angst, Book 04: Rhythm of War, Book 04: Rhythm of War Spoilers, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Depiction of Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Discussions of Slavery, Class Issues, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jasnah being the queen Alethkar deserves and also desperately needs cos their country is a mess, Mid-Timeskip, Missing Scene, Post-Book 03: Oathbringer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:28:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>48,717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27404158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticSpren/pseuds/CrypticSpren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jasnah comes to Kaladin with a proposition (no not that kind, get your mind out of the gutter),  he must choose whether or not to sacrifice his own wellbeing for the sake of doing what's right. </p><p> Seeing as it's Kaladin, the choice is clear. </p><p> Meanwhile, Jasnah struggles against centuries of tradition to bring about the social change Alethkar needs if it's going to survive the coming storm. </p><p>----------------------------------------------------</p><p> Full spoilers for Rhythm of War!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hoid (Cosmere)/Jasnah Kholin, Kaladin &amp; Jasnah Kholin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Comfortember 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Proposition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>SPOILER WARNING FOR ALL OF RHYTHM OF WAR, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED</p><p> Okay that done with, this is self indulgent h/c, with a sprinkling of political drama because Jasnah is the queen Alethkar deserves, and also the one it needs because wtf guys why are you like this. </p><p>Blanket content warning for canon level discussions of slavery, abuse, and mental health issues. There shouldn't be anything here that's worse than in the books, but it will discuss Kaladin's time between joining bridge 4 and being made a slave in more detail. If you need more info please let me know!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Being summoned to see Queen Jasnah was never good news, especially when you were one Kaladin Stormblessed, Highmarshal of the Windrunners, founder of the legendary Bridge Four, and if meetings of the Knights Radiant were anything to go by, the Alethi Queen's least favourite person in all of Roshar.</p><p> But, dutiful subject as he was, Kaladin made his way through the corridors of Urithiru towards her chambers - a set of rooms in the interior, familiar to Kaladin because of how close it was to Dalinar's. Syl hovered by his side, somehow more worried than Kaladin himself if her constant flitting between shapes was anything to go by, which was a difficult task.  </p><p>"You know," she hung from the ceiling overhead, a chandelier full of spheres, "I overheard her talking to her spren the other day Kaladin, they do <em> not </em> like us," she was a gemheart, rolling along the floor, like the ones in the fields, "This seems like a bad idea, she could soulcast you like <em> that, </em>" a girl again, for the brief purpose of snapping her fingers for emphasis.</p><p> Kaladin shook his head, bemused, "She's the <em> Queen </em>Syl, I can't just ignore her." </p><p>"Well!" Syl puffed in front of him, arms folded, "If she <em> does </em>turn you into a cremling don't say I didn't warn you!"</p><p>"I'll bear that in mind." he rounded a corner and found himself outside Jasnah’s quarters, nodding to the guards stationed outside, he entered the small lounge she had set aside for guests outside of the official context of running the Alethi court. </p><p>He didn’t have to wait long. Soon after Kaladin’s arrival, Jasnah entered, accompanied by Wit and a human sized, inky black figure. Her spren. Kaladin had only seen the thing a few times, he wondered what it meant that it showed itself now? </p><p> “Take a seat, Highmarshal,” Jasnah said, waving her free hand towards a set of plush leather chairs, arranged around a long end table. Judging by the way her eyes flicked to Kaladin’s shoulder, Syl had also made herself visible. Kaladin did as she asked, eyeing the refreshments and several stacks of paper laid out on the table. Storms, he still had no idea what she wanted. </p><p> Jasnah took a seat opposite, Wit following suit. Jasnah’s strange spren settled in a standing position at her shoulder, “Well, I see no reason to delay,” Jasnah said, pouring tea from the pot, “I asked to meet with you today because I have a proposition to make.”</p><p> Kaladin blinked as she pushed the steaming cup toward him, “Thank you, your Highness,” he said, a few anticipation spren bobbing about in the area near his feet. He swallowed, trying to calm his pounding heart. </p><p> Jasnah nodded, “Are you aware of the<em> 'Royal Decree For</em> <em>The Abolition of Alethi Slaves'"</em></p><p> Kaladin most certainly was <em> not </em>. He straightened, glancing at Syl, “You’re.... Really?” he asked, his voice hoarse. He glanced towards Wit, the storming man was smirking, like how Kaladin imagined Adolin's ryshadium did when he wasn't looking. Kaladin narrowed his eyes at the man, “If this is some sort of joke Wit, I’m not finding it particularly funny.” </p><p>“Well <em> I </em>didn’t find it particularly funny when you lost my flute-”</p><p> Jasnah held up a hand to quiet them both, “Yes, Highmarsall, really.”</p><p> “And…” Kaladin frowned, “Your proposition?”</p><p> Jasnah nodded, “As I’m sure you can imagine, this notion is not popular among the highprinces and other noble lighteyes, nor is it popular with my uncle,” she scowled at that, “Dalinar has argued that now is not the time for social upheaval.”</p><p> Kaladin wasn’t sure why that surprised him, or why it was accompanied by a small shock of betrayal. He remembered standing opposite Dalinar in a cell, listening to him argue in favour of Amaram, that Kaladin had no right to seek justice for what he had done, that <em> of course </em>Dalinar should take the word of a well respected lighteyes over Kaladin’s own… No. Dalinar had never been likely to support something like this. As much respect as Kaladin had for the man personally… </p><p>“It has been suggested to me,”Jasnah continued,  “That the most useful court in this matter will likely be that of public opinion. What I need from you, Highmarshall,” she took a sip of her tea, then set it in its saucer with a slight click, “Is your story.” </p><p>Kaladin’s gut went cold. </p><p> He could feel every blow, every beating, pain and fear and darkness- </p><p> His ears rang like he’d been kicked in the head, he <em> felt </em>like he’d been kicked in the head. Was Jasnah still talking? </p><p> "I…" his tongue felt too big for his mouth, his whole body was rubber, like it belonged to someone else. He couldn't… she couldn't… </p><p> The lie came easily, he knew what happened when he told the truth, "I was a deserter… I…" his body was tense, ready for the blows that would surely follow, always did whenever he spoke of that time. </p><p>"I think we all know that's not the truth Kaladin," he blinked, Wit was there, at his side, a hand on Kaladin's shoulder as if it would tether him to the ground. Syl hovered behind Wit, pale face drawn with concern. </p><p>"Kaladin?" her voice was a whisper, "Are you alright?" </p><p>He let his eyes slip shut for the briefest of moments. Breathed. Certainty thudded in his veins as he drew in stormlight. Better, that felt better. </p><p>He opened his eyes, and gave Syl a tight, reassuring smile. </p><p> He turned back to Jasnah, was that <em> empathy </em> on her face? "I apologise," he said quietly, "I didn't quite catch that last part." </p><p> Jasnah's face drew back into that tight, brusque expression she wore as she gave a tight nod. Wit moved back to his position beside her, and she said, "No need to apologise Highmarshal, I understand that this must be a… difficult topic for you, considering your history. It is for that reason precisely that this law be put into effect as seamlessly as possible, in order to spare others the fate you yourself had to endure." </p><p>Kaladin didn't trust himself to do anything more than nod. </p><p>"There are many among the Alethi nobility," she continued, seeing he wasn't going to respond further, "that argue the keeping of slaves to be justified by the quality of the character of those victimised by the practice. They are wrong of course, and whilst there are numerous examples proving that point, there are few cases as prominent as your own." </p><p> She smiled then, always a dangerous expression on her, "I do believe you're already something of a folk hero - Kaladin Stormblessed, darkeyed slave who saved a high prince's life and founded an order of the knight's radiant. You're a fable," her expression darkened, "With your consent, I would show them the truth." </p><p> She saw it on him, he realised, of course she did. This wasn't random. The Queen had always been astute. He glanced at Syl again. </p><p>"You don't have to do this Kaladin, not if you don't want to," she'd moved back to hover protectively by his shoulder, "I know it hurts you, to think of that time." </p><p>"That's why I have to do it Syl," he said, quiet enough so that it was only for her to hear, "I made an oath to protect, this… this could keep <em> thousands </em>out of the hands of slavers…" </p><p>She deflated, then nodded her assent. </p><p> He swallowed, then looked to Jasnah, "I'll do it." </p><p> Her smile was genuine this time, "Excellent. Let's arrange a time that suits the both of us, shall we?" </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Costs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 3 : Nightmare</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a warm summer's day in Kholinar, and Kaladin walked the city walls with Brightlord Amaran.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Amaran's cloak fluttered in the day's gentle breeze, the double eye glyph blinking, the golden colour of a flickering yellow sun. "Lovely day for it!" Amaram exclaimed, staring down over the battlements toward the killing field. Below them, men fought and died in brief puffs of blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes, Brightlord," Kaladin agreed. He watched the skyline, where Moash repeatedly plunged the spear Kaladin had taught him to use into Elhokar's chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amaram stepped over something on the ground, Tien's lifeless corpse, bloodless and spattered with mud, "I spoke with Dalinar by the way, about the new windrunners."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin looked up from the death spren crawling up his legs, "Sir?" he asked, uneasy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They were in Amaram's old office, he held a branding iron, it glowed orange in the dark, "He agreed," Amaram said, genial as ever. At his feet, Lopen stared with the glassy eyes of death, parshendi arrows bristling from his chest,  "It would be for the best if the former bridgemen were disposed of in order to free their spren for men with more training." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Far away, Syl was screaming, like the last time he'd killed her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Teft lay slumped against a wall in a bridgeman's leather vest, Rock was spread-eagled and smeared with his own blood. Amaram drew closer, iron sizzling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin shook his head, tried to back away, but restraints clamped his wrists, tight, chafing and peeling skin away like crem. Horror rose, visceral heat that swallowed chest and left him sick and dizzy. He thrashed, desperate, trying to pull away, "No!" he yelled, tried to suck in stormlight, came up empty, "No, you can't!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>this would happen!</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I'm sorry son," Dalinar, light eyes sparkling with pity, "We need the best men for the job, this is war, and you let Elhokar die." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The iron came down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin hit the stone floor with a sharp thud, jolting awake. Chest heaving, he gasped for air</span>
</p><p>
  <span>and the spherelight flickered, stormlight suffusing icy blue puffs across his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Kaladin?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl's faint blue light pierced the darkness of his too-big chambers. He blinked dumbfounded. He could still see them. Still see their faces, still see Amaram stepping over Tien’s lifeless- </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl flitted, circling the empty light fixture overhead several times before darting off, plunging him once more into the cloying blackness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shuddered, heart still pounding. He was cold and damp with sweat, blankets knotted at his feet. Another nightmare, the accompanying agony spren etched faces in the night, morphed by picked scabs into ones all too familiar. He drew his knees up to his chest, pressed his jaw against them to stop his clattering teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  It was unsurprising, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Nights like these, the wounds were fresh as if they happened yesterday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> That was a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  He was never more than a missed step away from the cold, creeping horror that waited in his nightmares. Somewhere in the corners of his mind, the brand was always falling, he was always being beaten, he was always watching someone he cared about die</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His conversation with Jasnah had just brought it all back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Pounding on the door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Storms</span>
  </em>
  <span>, someone must have heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Sir!" One of the guards stationed on this floor, they probably thought he was being attacked by fused. He tried to shout back, but his throat was dry and sore, and all that came out was a weak croak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He screwed his eyes shut. He should move, get up off the floor and let them know everything was all right. He couldn't move. Clouds of exhaustion spren puffed around him. He was shaking, wrapped in damp sheets, he couldn't seem to focus on anything that wasn't Elhokar </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tien </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adolin </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dalinar </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, His parents, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bridgeboy! Storms man, breathe!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He hadn't heard the footsteps, hadn't seen the sliver of light from the open door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He crouched in front of where Kaladin was huddled on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The real Adolin, not the one in Shadesmar soaked in blood, intestines slit and leaking, nothing Kaladin could do to help, Dalinar </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>- </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Kaladin." His voice was louder and he gripped Kaladin's shoulders, hand hot against his chilled skin as he pulled him into a seated position, "Look at me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin's hair was it's usual not-even-a-little-accidentally ruffled, embroidered velvet uniform cuffs, more stylish even than he wore in the day time. The faint scent of wine drifted from his breath. Not a lot, but enough to tell Kaladin that he must have been on his way back from a trip to the wine bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Which meant…</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He strained to hear the soft voices coming from the other room, and shame spren cascaded from the ceiling. The only thing worse than Adolin being here was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shallan </span>
  </em>
  <span>being here. Stormfather help him, if they started asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>questions</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wasn't sure what he'd do. Turn </span>
  <em>
    <span>into </span>
  </em>
  <span>a shame spren probably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The door closed with a soft click, plunging them briefly into darkness, before the faint glow of stormlight filled the room. Radiant, holding a sphere up to see, walked quickly towards them. She spoke to Adolin, "What's wrong? Is he hurt?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She didn't give him a chance to answer before turning  to Kaladin, "Do you need Stormlight? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> At the same time as Kaladin shook his head, Adolin answered, "He's alright love, just…" Adolin trailed off, looking back to Kaladin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin sighed, "Everything's fine." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "We heard screams." This from Shallan, arms folded, her hair bleeding from blonde to red as she spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He tore his eyes away, it looked too much like Elhokar, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>- </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "-and no offence Bridgeboy, but you look like something damnation got sick of and spat back up." Adolin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin bent over, digging his fists into his eyes. They were right, but storms did he not feel like explaining the situation to them, "I apologise for the disturbance, it won't happen agai-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Oh be </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Radiant again, made sense. Like this, he was too much for Shallan herself, she needed help to deal with him, "Adolin, find out where the spare blankets are, he's shaking like a leaf. I'm going to reassure that guard that everything’s alright." she said brusquely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Quick footsteps as she walked away before Kaladin could protest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He looked up meeting Adolin's eyes, "I'm not a child," he said, "You don't need to do this." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin glanced at something behind Kaladin's head - Syl. She must've arrived back when they did, "Do you know how frightened we were?" he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin hung his head in shame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin continued, "Syl came rushing to get us saying you wouldn't wake up, when we got here we heard </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you don't answer the door when we knock, and," he took a deep breath, worry spren briefly cascading in bright knots down his uniform, "We get in and I find you sat on the floor and staring at the wall, completely unresponsive like…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Like after Kholinar, he didn't have to say. Like after Elhokar died on Kaladin's watch, at the hand of a man Kaladin had taught to fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> A heavy blanket settled over Kaladin's shoulders and he jerked, heart pounding at the sudden weight of it. He let Adolin help him up, back to sit on the edge of the bed dipped as Adolin sat next to him, "Talk to me Bridgeboy, what's going on?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah. The thought of recounting </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It had been playing on his mind all day, ever since the meeting earlier. He could </span>
  <em>
    <span>change </span>
  </em>
  <span>things, protect </span>
  <em>
    <span>so many</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> But everyone Kaladin tried to protect died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook his head, "I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adolin, it was just a bad dream. They happen, I'm sorry I bothered you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Storms man!" Kaladin's raised voice surprised even himself, and he shrugged out of the blanket, getting to his feet, "What do you want me to say?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin bristled, then visibly forced himself to relax as he got to his feet, "I want you to tell me what’s bothering you. Failing that, I want you to say that you'll try and get some real sleep tonight. You know, before you go off to poke your spear at the ancient beings which happen to be damnation bent on killing you," he picked up the blanket from where it'd fallen on the floor, folded it, and laid it back on the bed, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bad dreams </span>
  </em>
  <span>is a lousy thing to die over."  Adolin looked pointedly at the cloud of exhaustion spren at Kaladin's feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Fine." Kaladin sat, heavily, back down and fixed Adolin with a glare, "Now go </span>
  <em>
    <span>away</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin smoothed his uniform coat as he gave Kaladin a nod, "Alright. But if I see you up and about before </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least </span>
  </em>
  <span>noon tomorrow I may have to invoke my privileges as high prince to make sure you listen this time." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin rolled his eyes, "Heralds forbid." </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Doubts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING!!!!!!!! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!!</p><p> So... I finished RoW in the space of like, a day because I have zero self control. Hence, there may (probably will) be spoilers right through to the end of the book, particularly with regards to characters that don't show up until later on. Likely nothing major past part one as this piece is set during the time skip, but do be aware that details may pop up!</p><p> That said, enjoy! (also omg Rhythm of War was so good)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jasnah stared at the documents set out in front of her with a frown. It was conference proceedings, specifically, governmental conference proceedings. From Azir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The Azish were as meticulous in their governmental processes as they were everything else, which meant records were available going back several hundred years. Azish religious leaders, scions and viziers as they called them, were not enslaved like the ardentia. In fact they seemed to be, if anything, highly coveted positions. Their fingerprints were all over their governmental selection process, but the same could easily be said of the Alethi. The main difference, it seemed, was that the ardents influence was far less visible. After all, </span>
  <em>
    <span>slaves </span>
  </em>
  <span>couldn't possibly influence the crown! </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah shook her head, scoffing to herself. She could understand why the ardents would want to keep their enslaved status, but it would be difficult for them to argue openly they were better off enslaved. Or at least, it would be once she brought to their attention the research she'd been doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> To her right, there was a growing stack of papers - interviews with both former and current slaves. It was a different kind of scholarship than she was used to, but ultimately, it was still, in a sense, history. The history of individuals, and the very recent history of an ancient practice. With any luck, it would also be the history of one of the most sweeping social reforms in recent memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The accounts were, without exception, deeply disturbing. She'd started out by interviewing the Windrunners who had been both members of the original bridge four and slaves. As was often the case with traumatic memories, the stories they'd told were fragmented. It wasn't uncommon for one to mention something they found to be particularly upsetting, only to trail off halfway through, reporting disparate memories with little in the way of connective tissue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those early days had, unfortunately,  involved being scolded by a lot of honour spren for upsetting their radiants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over time though, she'd improved her interview technique as well as the criteria she used to select suitable interview candidates. Wit proved to be exceptionally helpful in those cases where someone did become upset, so she now ensured his presence at all meetings. It was also helpful to have refreshments on hand, many seemed to find the mere act of holding a hot drink or having something to eat helped them remain oriented. She'd learned as well to exclude the most severely battle shocked from the process, the information they provided often being less useful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That </span>
  <em>
    <span>particular</span>
  </em>
  <span> criterion had been the reason why she hadn't approached Stormblessed sooner. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Brightness Davar had recounted the trip she had taken through Shadesmar with both Adolin and Stormblessed, leaving very little out as she had been unsure what would be important. Not to mention, Jasnah had seen for herself the look in the man's eyes when reports came in of a battle gone poorly. She was honestly surprised her uncle hadn't pulled him from the front yet, although she suspected it had more to do with fondness than it did tactical decision making.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Copper for your thoughts?" Jasnah couldn't help but jump a little at the sound of Wit's voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed dramatically, moving to perch on the edge of her desk, "You people, </span>
  <em>
    <span>honestly. </span>
  </em>
  <span>'Rolly bit of glowing investiture for your thoughts' really doesn't have the same ring to it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah stretched, the joints in her back popping, "Are you talking about spheres?" She shook her head, "Nevermind. I was just reviewing my research for the abolition proposal." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The one that not a single high prince is likely to back, no matter how good your arguments are?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That would be the one," she said, smiling a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned over, pressing a kiss to her temple, "Good," he said, "I'm proud of you - I've always thought it to be particularly barbaric practice. Is there anything you need help with?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've been reviewing my interview questions for the Highmarshal," she said, focusing her attention on her papers again, "Would you mind taking a look at them?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He peered at the paper she passed to him, brow furrowing a little in concentration as he scanned the lines. His cryptic, previously nestled against the pattern of his breast pocket, flitted up to land squarely on the paper. He frowned at the cryptic, which, from what Jasnah saw, only made her rotate faster, obscuring the words, “This is not a story!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Design,” he said, “I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to read, you abominable spren.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Me too!” she replied, “I’m reading the not-truths-not-lies!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ivory chimed in at that, growing to human size so that he stood atop Jasnah’s desk, staring down at Wit and Design, “Strange cryptic. This is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes Ivory!” Wit said, “You are quite right! Although the words ‘intolerable creature’ may be more accurate!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re questions Design,” Jasnah explained as it seemed Wit would be unwilling to, “I plan to use them to find truths.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or lies!” Design hummed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hopefully not.” Jasnah said, “But probably, yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “This is.” Ivory agreed, then shrank back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wit squinted at the paper to try and see through Design’s spiralling form, it took him longer than it normally would have, but eventually he nodded, “These seem fine, dear. Honestly I’m not sure what you’re worried about, he’s probably just going to grunt at you anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you lying? That’s not even a story!” Design said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are aware,”  Wit retorted, “That the insult becomes considerably less scathing when you do that, yes?” Design simply flared in response, and Jasnah couldn’t help the slight smile that escaped upon witnessing their antics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My worry,” Jasnah said, addressing Wit’s original question, “Is that they may not be, ah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sensitive </span>
  </em>
  <span>enough.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We already established that those who don’t meet the criteria regarding stress tolerance provide poorer quality data on the whole,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I believe it was you that established that dearest,” he took a seat on the edge of her desk, miraculously avoiding her stack of papers, “Different does not poorer make, and you may be ignoring a somewhat obvious trend in discounting those individuals.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What do you mean?” She asked, evening her breath to avoid attracting agitation spren.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What are your exclusion criteria?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, regarding stress tolerance, it would be symptoms of battle shock. In particular intrusive traumatic recall, episodes of severe anxiety, and detachment.” she replied, rattling off the symptoms she’d become all too familiar with, “And yes, I am aware that it is also found in a higher proportion of former slaves and to a more significant degree.That doesn’t help our argument though - many lighteyes are of the opinion that battle shock is </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>an indicator of poor moral character.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wit shook his head with a sigh, “And do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Of course not,” she scoffed, “There is no evidence to support such a claim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Prove it to them then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah furrowed her brow. He was right. The Highmarshal was a prime example. A significant proportion of the tower believed the man had done no wrong and never would do any. It was more than mere admiration. She could use his example to prove that if even the great Highmarshal Stormblessed, founder of the Windrunners, could be felled by slavery, surely it was a moral evil in and of itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her initial plan had been to use his story as a way to gain legitimacy - he was someone both the lighteyes and the darkeyes would listen to. But this plan worked just as well. Their first meeting was tomorrow. She had until then to design additional questions - those about his current experiences. She could only hope he would answer them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wit looked at her with a frown, “I know that face - do try not to break the poor man dear, your uncle needs him to lead his army of flying bridgemen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah nodded absently, only half paying attention. Already, she’d begun to write. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Wrongs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>So, err, this fic is turning out to be more Jasnoidy than I'd anticipated lol. It was never intended to be a focus haha, it's just helpful to have someone for Jasnah to bounce off of.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first day, Jasnah decided to start slow. Wit was with her as she supervised the laying of a sparse table on one of the balconies.  It'd taken a great deal of trial and error to figure out the best configuration for these interviews, but after carrying out a little over a hundred of them, she'd arrived at her current configuration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Open, outdoor spaces worked best for this sort of thing she found, particularly where Windrunners were involved. The seating was carefully arranged around a low end table, with soft chairs at roughly forty five degree angles to each other, and the refreshments were understated - she'd found excessive opulence was liable to make her subjects wary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> After a moment of preparing her notes, as well as setting up Wit with a spanreed for the purpose of making an exact copy of what she wrote, she looked up to see a darkeyed servant idling at the door, "Highmarshal Stormblessed here to see you, your highness,"  the girl said, and Jasnah waved for her to admit the man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The Highmarshal looked, predictably, terrible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Dark bags hung under his eye, and he was trailed by his usual cloud of exhaustion and anxiety spren. These days, it was as if the man was rather literally being followed around by a dark cloud. His spren had chosen to make herself visible as well, Sylphrena, if Jasnah recalled correctly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As part of the more general spren interviews she had been conducting, Jasnah had come to develop something of a fascination with her. She was the oldest living honour spren, and one of the few surviving spren who had been bonded to a radiant not long before the recreance. That, in combination with the 'sleep' that had earned her the epithet 'Ancient Daughter', had implications for scholarship that they hadn't even had time to </span>
  <em>
    <span>partially</span>
  </em>
  <span> dive into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She sat now on Stormblessed's shoulder, wearing an outfit that looked suspiciously like something she had caught Adolin sketching on a pad he had evidently borrowed from her ward. Married mere months and already they were picking up on each other's bad habits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your Highness," her train of thought was interrupted by the Highmarshal's deferential head nod of greeting. It was, admittedly, a step up from the grunts she'd received from him before her coronation, but he wasn't fooling anybody. Especially not anybody that had been present at her uncle's meetings of the heads of the radiant orders.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Highmarshal," she replied pleasantly, "Please, have a seat. We have the hour for this first meeting, so I arranged refreshments." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He eyed the setup with suspicion for a moment, before, predictably, taking the seat closest to the balcony edge. Yet another interesting distinction between Windrunners she'd interviewed and other populations of former slaves. The non radiants tended to sit closest to the door, whereas Windrunners sat as close to the open air as possible. If she had time, Jasnah would have loved to conduct more in depth research into how radiance affected typical manifestations of mental disturbance. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to investigate such a topic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She sat opposite him, before nodding to Wit, stationed a few metres behind her with paper and spanreed. He moved closer, taking a seat as she said, "Wit is here in order to act as scribe, if that's agreeable?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded stiffly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Good," Jasnah said, "I suggest proceeding post-haste then."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Another nod, as mechanical as one of her mother's devices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We'll start with your early life-" he started a little at that, and she paused, "Is there a problem?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just thought-" he glanced at his spren, and she gave a reassuring smile. He sat a little straighter, schooling his features, "I didn't realise you would want to start so early, your highness." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I have learned over the course of my studies, Highmarshal," Jasnah said, "That in order to understand the part, one must know as much of the whole as is possible. It is important to start at the start." That, and the fact that people tended to freeze up when she asked what it was like to be enslaved without any preamble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wit gave her a subtle smile when Kaladin wasn't looking, and she returned it. It had been his idea to add a little buildup into her line of questioning. It also didn't hurt that it gave her several points of direct comparison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin nodded again, "Right, of course." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's start easy," Jasnah said, "Where were you born?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Hearthstone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was a long silence. When it became clear he wasn't going to elaborate of his own accord, Jasnah asked, "And what was it like there? Did you have any family?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She watched throat bob as he contemplated her question, "It was… fine," he said eventually, "I lived with my parents and… and my brother." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought Oroden was an infant?" Jasnah asked, genuinely curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not Oroden," he said. His jaw worked, quiet for a long time before he said "Tien."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I didn't know you had two brothers, Stormblessed," Jasnah said, glancing at her notes. When he didn't reply, she looked up to find him staring at a spot on the table. Storms. These questions were supposed to aid in </span>
  <em>
    <span>avoiding </span>
  </em>
  <span>potentially difficult memories too early in the process. She glanced at Wit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kaladin," Wit called gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He blinked, gaze snapping back into focus, "Sorry," he said, "It can be… hard to talk about that time." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah nodded, "Don't worry, why don't you tell us about your parents?" that, at least, should be a safe enough topic. He seemed to be on good enough terms to visit them as regularly as he was able. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded, "Of course. My parents are Hesita and Lirin, both darkeyes of the second nahn. They're…" he frowned, brow furrowed, "My father's a surgeon, my mother used to do odd jobs in town before Roshone." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Roshone?" Jasnah queried, that name sounded familiar, but she couldn't place why. Perhaps he had come up in a report? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Of course you don't-" there was a hint of bitterness in his voice, but he cut himself off and began again, "Roshone was our citylord. He had a… </span>
  <em>
    <span>dispute </span>
  </em>
  <span>with my father. Wistiow, the former citylord, left us spheres for me to train in Kharbranth. Roshone did not believe he had done so willingly, and he attempted to starve us into submission, before… before he did worse." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah blinked, "What? I've not heard this story before."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, "Nobody ever asked. We were a small town in the middle of nowhere. My family were the only ones of even the second nahn. He was just another Brightlord put somewhere he 'couldn't do any harm.'" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She blinked again, "I know it was likely a long while ago, but surely you would have some legal recourse-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was already shaking his head, voice barely above a whisper, "It's too late now. He's already done his worst...” there was yet another long, painful silence, but then he started speaking again, “He lost his son, Rillir,” he said, quietly, looking up to meet her eyes, “They were both injured in a hunting accident, </span>
  <em>
    <span>badly</span>
  </em>
  <span> injured. There was nothing we could have done for Rillir, but we were able to save Roshone himself…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah stayed quiet when he trailed off once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He blamed my father because he was unable to save him. I think....” he wet his lips, shaking his head, “I think he thought it was deliberate,” there was a darkness to his voice, one she’d never witnessed for herself, only heard of, “After that, it got worse. Eventually…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah remembered then, in that terrible, lingering quiet where she had heard the name Roshone. He was a man that Elhokar had been close to. That her </span>
  <em>
    <span>uncle </span>
  </em>
  <span>had helped protect. It felt like a punch to the gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he spoke again, the darkness had seeped away, leaving only an emptiness. The stunned numbness of the deeply shaken. “Tien was thirteen when Roshone pressed him into military service,” he said, “fourteen when Amaran sent him to the front lines.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He seemed to be staring </span>
  <em>
    <span>past </span>
  </em>
  <span>her when he said words that sent chills down her already frozen spine, “Fourteen when he died. In front of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He faded into a silence that not even Wit dared to break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was Sylphrena that spoke first, tentative, her voice wavering slightly, “I think Kaladin needs a break…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah nodded quickly, getting to her feet, “Of course. Wit and I will be inside. I…” she hesitated, she’d been about to address Stormblessed, but thought better of it, instead speaking to his spren, “Tell him… tell him I’m sorry. That should </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>have happened…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The fact that her brother may have played a part in it...</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The spren nodded her thanks, and Jasnah headed inside, closely followed by Wit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He cocked an eyebrow at her once they had situated themselves in one of the lounge areas, "Well?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah glanced out through the glass doors to the balcony. Stormblessed had his face buried in his hands. Irritation, irrational but still horribly powerful, surged within her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned back to Wit, "This," she said, "Is exactly the reason I didn't want to interview him in the first place. Storms, most people are happy to at least talk about </span>
  <em>
    <span>where</span>
  </em>
  <span> they grew up. Those were supposed to be the </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy </span>
  </em>
  <span>questions - I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to be responsible for breaking my uncle's favourite officer Wit." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He chuckled darkly, "Oh I wouldn't worry about that dear, it seems a great many people got there first." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She gave a long exhale, shoulders dropping, "These interviews hurt so many of them, yet I know they're the right thing to do. This isn't something I would've worried over before." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  He moved closer and clasped her hands in his, gently, he began to rub small circles into the back of her exposed freehand. She relaxed in spite of herself, tension bleeding from her body. She didn't appreciate touch in quite the same way as he did. It didn't excite her, or make passion burn within her as it did maidens in stories, but still she craved it. Craved the closeness, the warmth of a hand in hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I loved my brother," she said, hesitant, "I loved him </span>
  <em>
    <span>dearly, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and when I heard he was dead, I-" she stopped herself just in time, "I cannot deny though, that he hurt a great many people during his reign." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You can't fix the whole world, Jasnah," he said, pulling her into his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She leaned her head on his chest, "I know that, but I'm in exactly the position needed to fix </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>part of it, more so than anyone else." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She felt him smiling into her hair, “That you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She shifted, looking up to him, “I made myself a promise,” she said, “When I was crowned, that I would right the wrongs he was unable to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “A noble goal,” he said in that voice he used when he thought he was being wise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She gave him a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look, </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I’m not telling you this for the sake of it, Wit. I need you to keep me to it. I cannot waver, no matter how difficult it is to hear stories like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yes, it is difficult to see someone I have grown to see as a friend in pain,” she felt like she was betraying some part of herself to admit that, but it was true. She appreciated the Highmarshal, especially when their opinions differed, “But in doing so, I have learned of yet another corrupt city lord, put in place by my brother, who never faced justice. Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>is something I can fix.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He leaned back then, looking at her with that serious expression he wore when someone had actually managed to make him think. Moments later, he broke into a grin, shaking his head, “You never fail to amaze me, Jasnah Kholin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She huffed, pulling away in a display of mock haughtiness, “I don’t do it for </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He pressed a kiss to her safehand, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the amazing part.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> And with that, they headed back outside.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Found</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Was this chapter just an excuse for bridge four found family? Possibly. I won't tell if you don't ;P</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> Kaladin didn't stay with Jasnah and Wit for very long after that. Jasnah dismissed him when he hadn't been able to give more than one word answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was too numb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The halls of Urithiru blended into one another, it was difficult enough to navigate them at the best of times. Now though, his feet moved of their own accord, as if he were watching them from very far away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Trapped, once more, in that moment. Tien </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, led quickly to Cenn </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dallet </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hab, Reesh, Alabet, Correb, all </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dozens of slaves. More bridgemen. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Elhokar</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fault, his failure. And yet he'd had the nerve to go up to Jasnah and talk about his own loss? About Roshone? Her brother had died </span>
  <em>
    <span>because of him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If it weren't for Skar and Drehy, her nephew, a child, would've gone the same way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "How'd you think she stands it Syl?" he asked. His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else, cracked and broken, shardplate leaking stormlight in sad, dying trails. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl appeared in front of him, head cocked, "What're you talking about?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Jasnah," he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She sniffed at the air, enlarging her nostrils for effect, "Well," she said, "I know you didn't bathe this morning, but you don't smell </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You can't smell things Syl," he said, flat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her face shrunk with an elastic bounce back to its normal size, "Maybe not," she said, "But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>know people don't start making faces behind your back before it's been at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>a full two days."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She paused expectantly, but he didn't laugh, "Don't you have a high prince or a horneater to go annoy?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Nope!" she popped the p, "I was worried Jasnah might murder you so I cleared my schedule - I'm all yours."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He fell into silence again. Into replaying the memories. Elhokar with Moash's spear through his chest. His friends killing each other. The dread that struck in that moment he realised what was about to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> A better man would've stopped them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He'd thought it over countless times, ways he could've stopped the fighting. If he'd thought to use his lashings, he could've stuck their boots to the floor, or pulled their weapons from their hands. If he'd only been faster, if he'd had the strength of will to keep going and save Elhokar after the fighting started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Once, he'd come to the sobering realisation that Elhokar was Dalinar's Tien. Now, he came to the same one, but for Jasnah. Except she didn't seem to hate him for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She should hate him.  At least as much as he hated Roshone, had hated Amaran. Why didn't she hate him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kholinar, everything around Kholinar, felt like being burned. The centre was black and dead, nerves seared away by the enormity of it, the moment itself a dizzying, distant thing he could never quite willingly grasp. Around it though, around it was blistered and white, inflamed, with pain spren clinging desperately wherever he looked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn't poke at it, but he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There were some memories he would kill to be rid of, but he couldn't, so he agravated them instead. Tilled them up like dirt from the bottom of a river, let them fog him until there was nothing else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Blood on the floor of the palace, mixing with the dust of the Shattered Plains, pooling on the surgery floor beneath a dead boy and his father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Screams. He had enough stored to fill the whole scale with the different tones. Young to old, screams of the watching to screams of the dying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain. More shades of it than he could count. Enough, likely, to make a comprehensive guide to the topic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He numbed himself on the barbs of those horrors. Scrubbed at them until there was no sensation left to be had, then, he floated. Empty but for the foulness he'd exposed at his core, a single, awful truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was a failure, and it was everyone else who had to pay for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  He buried his face in his hands, the heels of his palms grinding into his temples. At some point, he'd ended up on the floor, and cold Urithiru stone leeched the heat from his body. He didn't cry, couldn't. You had to have something, a feeling, an emotion, a single sensation, inside of you to cry, and Kaladin had </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was there that Sigzil found him, he looked worried. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fantastic</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Another way Kaladin had failed him - why couldn't he just be strong? Like they expected him to be? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Sir!" The Azish man said, crouching down to eye level once he made it to Kaladin, "Are you unwell? Do you need Stormlight? I have spheres!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. At that, Sigzil pulled out a small glowing pouch and pushed it into his limp fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It slipped through, and he watched as a ruby broam fell free, rolled once, then came to balance on its flattened side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He sucked it in, almost instinctively, but even the bright jolt of energy it gave him wasn't enough to beat back the fog. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It took him too long to realise Sigzil was watching him expectantly. Long enough for him to hesitantly ask, "Sir? Are you feeling any better?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded. Several more impossibly long moments. Then, Sigzil spoke again, "Are you perhaps ready to go over the prospective squire applications now?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Oh, of course. He'd agreed to meet a few hours after his interview with Jasnah was supposed to end. How long had it </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span>? "Sorry Sig," he said, "I got distracted." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Sigzil still looked concerned. Hesitantly, he asked, "If you are in need of rest Sir, we can reschedule? I know you said you had that meeting with the Queen today, and well, I know how those can be." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. Sigzil had been a slave as well. Been forced to run bridges as well. Storms, the man had been through the same trials as Kaladin, and he'd done it whilst being in a strange land with completely different customs to his own. Why then, was Sigzil not broken as well? How come he could still function where Kaladin couldn't? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, "No, I'm fine, just…" just what? It didn't matter, he pushed himself to unsteady feet. Looked around. Where on Roshar was he? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Sigzil seemed to sense his disorientation, either that or he was in his usual rush to get things done quickly and efficiently, as he took off, leading the way to the small suite of rooms on the first floor where the Windrunners had based their support and command staff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> As they went, people waved to them, the way they always did, and Kaladin smiled and nodded to each, even as their faces blurred into one another. He convinced himself they were only pretending to be polite, cordial. They blamed him, and rightly so, for the loss of their king. Their city. Their country. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He wondered why any of them were still around. Didn't they know that anyone who got too close to Kaladin Stormblessed would inevitably fall at his side? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They spent half an hour attempting to review the applications, the two of them holed up with a stack of papers, accompanied by a scribe to read those applications which'd been filled in using women's writing instead of glyphs. On the fourth (or was it sixth?) candidate, however, Sigzil raised a hand, cutting off the scribe halfway through her sentence, "Could we have a moment?" he said, and she bowed her head before scurrying out, likely to see to some other duty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Then, Sigzil turned to Kaladin, "Sir," he said, "Do you even remember the name of this applicant?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> No. He didn't, but still, "There's hundreds Sig, I bet not even you remember all the names." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Fine, if not name, then are they male or female?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin swallowed. He didn't remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>either. In truth, listening to the applications had felt more akin to being bombarded by a dull wall of static. He could guess though, "... male?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sigzil sighed, a very common act for the small man, "Sir, that was the only female applicant we've had so far, and she comes </span>
  <em>
    <span>highly </span>
  </em>
  <span>recommended by Brightness Lynn." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think," anxiety spren fluttered around Sigzil's hands, but he kept his tone even, "It would be a far more efficient use of your time to spend the rest of today resting, Sir." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin scowled, "I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sig, I just… lost focus for a moment." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sigzil gave him a flat look, then, clearing his throat, "I wish it didn't have to come to this, sir, but, well," He pulled a small, incredibly wrinkled, square of torn off paper from his pocket. It was covered in glyphs, and had an unnervingly familiar mark at the bottom, "I, Adolin Kholin, High Prince of Kholinar, heir to the throne of Urithiru, formally grant the right to the bearer of this writ to send Highmarshal Storming moody right back to storming bed." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kalodin scowled </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "It is an official decree Sir, the Highprince promised me it would hold up in court as long as he signed it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Exhaustion spren puffed in an indignant little wave around Kaladin's head, "I think we both know you don't believe that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," Sigzil said, "Seeing as you Alethi don't have an actual form to force your officers to rest, this one is certainly as valid as any other." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's just get through the rest of these applications Sig," Kaladin said, exhaustion that was already bone deep sinking all the way through to marrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Sigzil didn't budge, folding his arms across his chest, "Do not push me sir, I am not above telling another story if you don't listen." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Need I also remind you," he continued, "That Teft is but a few doors down and he will not be as charitable as I am being."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Storms, Teft getting involved was the last thing he wanted, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>after that time he found Kaladin passed out and drooling over a sack of spheres he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be retrieving for Bridge Thirteen's practice session. Yesterday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Neither of us wants that, Sig," he pleaded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Correct."  Sigzil said, unwavering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin briefly headbutted the desk several times, loudly, then, "Alright. Compromise. I'll nap, in the common room, for half an hour, </span>
  <em>
    <span>if </span>
  </em>
  <span>you promise to wake me up the second it gets </span>
  <em>
    <span>to </span>
  </em>
  <span>half an hour."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sigzil seemed to ponder this for a moment, then nodded, satisfied, "Take the bench in the meeting room, I will ensure none of the men disturb you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----------------- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He woke up with damp cheeks when the sun was beginning to dip, low and orange, over the edge of Urithiru.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He'd dreamt of Tien again, being children and playing on the hills overlooking the lavis fields. Tien had pressed a rock into his hand. Only it hadn't been a rock at all, it had been a spear, and Kaladin had watched, horrified, as he stabbed it through his brother's chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The padded bench in the meeting room was too short, and his legs dangled over the edge. He sat up, wiping his eyes, trying to suppress the shudders wracking his body. Deep breaths. It was only a dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Alright there, lad?" </span>
</p><p><span> Kaladin</span> <span>grimaced. Teft. He pushed his hair, matted with sleep and fallen out of its tie, from his eyes as he located the older man, sat at a table with a set of battered playing cards arranged on the big polished wood conference table that took centre stage. </span></p><p>
  <span> "Teft?" He asked, trying to sound more awake and in command of himself than he had any hope of being, "What're you doing here? Where's Sig?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Teft stretched, looking as rumpled as Kaladin felt as he turned round, leaning over the back of his chair, "He went to that budget meeting with Dalinar and Leyten, asked me to look in on you and well," he shrugged, "Didn't feel right just leaving you in here on your own, so figured I'd find something to keep me busy whilst I waited." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Storms, the meeting. Kaladin had wanted to go to make sure the men had everything they needed. As much as Kaladin trusted Sigzil, when it came to making sure his team were looked after he liked to oversee things closely. He groaned, dragging a tired hand down his face, "What time is it? Do you think they've finished yet?" As much as Kaladin appreciated Teft having the good sense not to try and wake him from a nightmare, he wished he would've chanced it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Don't you be worrying about that now," Teft said, "Sig already told Dalinar you weren't well."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin frowned irritably, "Radiants don't get 'not well', Teft."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aye?" Teft raised a single bushy eyebrow, "Maybe tell that to the army of exhaustion spren following you about lad, cos they seem to think there's something going on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin grunted an acknowledgement, more of his own frustration than of Teft's point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We all have our moments Kal, nothing to be ashamed of." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I'm just tired tired Teft, I think I'll live," Kaladin said with a scowl, getting to his feet. He'd used his uniform coat as a makeshift pillow, so he unfolded it and shook out the ceases before putting it on. As he did the buttons, he realised a little late that his hands were trembling, causing him to fumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Teft got to his feet with an expression of long-suffered weariness, before approaching, helping to fasten the last button at Kaladin's collar. Kaladin looked pointedly away as the other man tried to meet his eyes. After a moment, Teft gave up and spoke anyway, "We've got your back lad, always have. This isn't a bridge you need to carry on your own, not anymore."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin was silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teft clasped Kaladin's shoulder, "You've saved the life of every man here, Kal. Least any of us can do is be someone to lean on." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin looked up, meeting Teft's watery blue eyes. He'd been training with Phenodorana recently then, "I don't need to 'lean on' anyone Teft," he shrugged out from Teft's hand, turning to go, "Everything's fine. Sig should've woken me up like he said he would."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Any not-fineness was his own storming fault anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> This wasn't like the times he'd been unable to pin down </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was suddenly back, running that first bridgerun, or watching Elhokar die, or being beaten by a slavemaster. It'd been intentional - he'd sat and brought up things to Jasnah Kholin that hadn't seen the light of day in </span>
  <em>
    <span>years. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I will protect those who cannot protect themselves.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The same words that guided his every action, every decision. His sworn duty. He could put up with shaking hands and a nightmare or two if it would help Jasnah end slavery once and for all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lad…" Teft was giving Kaladin that withering Sergeant's stare of his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What do you want from me Teft?" he regretted the harshness in his tone almost the instant the words left his mouth, a few anger spren pooling at his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Teft didn't back down, "I know how you get Kal, don't deny it, I just want you to let us help before it gets so bad you do something foolish." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He took a slow, steadying breath, stuffing down the urge to snap, "I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine </span>
  </em>
  <span>Teft, I'll see you tomorrow." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He left the room quickly, before too many anger spren could accumulate, and soon found himself stalking the hallways of Urithiru, no particular destination in mind. Syl soon appeared beside him, a glowing streak that morphed into her usual form, with the somewhat odd addition of a long coat and a wide brimmed hat. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>stopped Kaladin in his tracks, "Syl," he said, "Why are you dressed like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Veil</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She shrugged, "Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>Veil </span>
  </em>
  <span>actually talks to me. And she doesn't shout at the people who care about her."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin gave her a flat look, before taking off once more, "I'm not interested in a lecture."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I wasn't lecturing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Leave me alone Syl," he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  She manoeuvred, twisting through the air to hover in front of him, arms folded, "Not until you go and apologise to Teft. He didn't deserve that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he didn't. Which was why it was probably a bad idea for Kaladin to go back and talk to him, "I'm not a good person to be around right now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She rolled comically enlarged eyes, then ducked out of the way as he almost walked through her, "Being alone isn't good for you Kaladin." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And being </span>
  <em>
    <span>around</span>
  </em>
  <span> me isn't good for anyone else," he said as he arrived at the door to his quarters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He could feel her watching him as he went in and set about the business of… well, nothing. It was too late to ask for a scribe to come and read battle reports, he didn't have any missions to prepare for, and he didn't have it in him to go and find the papers Sigzil had briefly mentioned wanting him to review. He undid the buttons on his coat, then hung it carefully in the wardrobe, trying to ignore the darkness that threatened to flood over him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was too early to go to bed, but what else was there to do? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Go find Adolin or some of his other friends at Jor's. Do some work. Go for a walk. Practice his swordplay. Go back to Teft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> None of it seemed like a real option, so he collapsed, fully clothed, onto his bed. Stared at the wall, grey and empty in front of him. He was so careful normally, about filling his time with as much work as he could, careful not to give the memories room to breathe, but one slip and it was gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> His mind went back to what he'd told Jasnah. Back to Tien. His failure. Back to a hollow in the ground and a small, cooling body in his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He deserved this. Deserved to be unable to wrench his thoughts away from the memory of his brother's shocked expression. The grin as he saw Kaladin, moments before the end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Had he thought Kaladin was going to save him? That maybe he wouldn't die? He must've been so </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Elhokar probably had as well. Storms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Tears, hot shame made manifest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Why'd you do it Syl?" he asked the empty air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She settled cross legged on the mattress in front of him, small and wearing a concerned expression. "Do what, Kaladin?" she asked, small. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I don't protect people," his voice was hoarse, "I lead them further into danger, I use them up, just like Sadaes did, like Amaran - I'm even a storming lighteyes now. Too broken to protect anybody, even from myself." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I don't understand," she said, shaking her head, "Explain it to me Kaladin, because I don't understand how you can think those things." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't though. It was too big, too misshapen in his head to be able to translate it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he rolled over and faced the other way. She didn't follow, and eventually, he fell into a restless, haunted sleep. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Rights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A few days after that first meeting, Jasnah, stack of thoroughly researched papers clasped under her arm, made her way to her uncle's chambers. Wit wasn't with her for this, the man having gone off to do… well, whatever it was he got up to when he didn't tell Jasnah what he was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Another woman might have been concerned at such behaviour. Jasnah frequently overheard her scribes or the servants gossiping about one man or another who they feared was being unfaithful, and whilst she knew better than to judge her own relationship by the standards inferred from another's, she couldn't help but wonder what it meant that she didn't have similar fears. Was it her that was broken, or the women she had overheard? It seemed a torturous existence, to constantly be in fear of romantic betrayal, and it wasn't something her mother seemed to worry about. But it worried her, niggled at that part of her that visceral part of her that couldn't help but flinch from even the smallest reminder of her own difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She didn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>to fit in, had learned long ago that holding back her truth for the sake of others tended to end poorly, but there was nonetheless a part of her that felt a little broken when she thought about how different her own experiences seemed to be from those of her peers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Different wasn't bad though, she reminded herself firmly. Different was just that, different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Storms, she shouldn't have been thinking about this. There were more important things to concern herself with. Not least of which was the rapidly approaching door to Dalinar's chambers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was expecting her, so after a single brief rap, she entered, not bothering to stand on ceremony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar was seated in the reception area by a small fire, lips moving silently, pouring with great reverence over a text Jasnah would've been able to recognise by mere touch were she to be suddenly blindfolded. The Way of Kings. It lightened her mood towards him somewhat, catching him like this. He was at his least guarded whilst reading, and each time she caught him at it, it seemed an even greater injustice that he had kept himself from it for so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She was, however, here for the purpose of fixing a far greater injustice. To forget that would be of the ten fools. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Uncle," she said sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He jumped a little, almost dropping the book before closing it and setting it aside, "Jasnah," he replied with a smile, "It's good to see you, I trust you're well?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She nodded curtly, "And you, uncle."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He gestured for her to take a seat in one of two plush armchairs arranged before the fire. It was a luxury in Urithiru, and Jasnah knew that her mother would prefer it if everyone just used heating fabrials, but this occasional  indulgence was one of the few luxuries her uncle allowed himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She sat, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, "You had something you wanted to discuss?" he nodded towards the papers she had clasped in her free hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I did," she replied, "You are aware of the interviews I have been conducting recently? With former slaves?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Immediately, his face fell, expression morphing into one of mild irritation, "Jasnah, we've talked about this…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She scoffed, "Yes, I am aware of your disapproval of this project uncle. That's not, however, what I wanted to talk about."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Very well," he said, indicating she should continue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "My most recent interview subject brought a matter of extreme concern to my attention," Jasnah began, "And I am given to understand that you yourself played some part in it. This," she pulled a sheet of paper from her notes, "Is a copy of the transcript from my interview with Highmarshal Stormblessed-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't take the sheet, instead giving Jasnah a look of consternation, "Jasnah," he said, "Kaladin is an incredibly busy man, we're fighting a war, please tell me you haven't been bothering him with this… project of yours?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "We're both adults uncle," Jasnah could feel the irritated bite of the words as they left her mouth, "The Highmarshal is of a similar opinion to me on this matter and agreed to provide information based on his own experiences."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar massaged his temples. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Read the transcript uncle, then you can tell me it doesn't matter." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, Dalinar took the page, squinting to read Wit's writing. With a glance at Jasnah, he began to mutter the words under his breath. He was still slow, and read in the flat, stuttering tone of someone still unfamiliar with the act, but already she could tell he was far better than he'd been just months ago. The pride Jasnah felt at her uncle's progress did little to dull the horror of what her read though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The last few lines he read aloud, several times.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tien was thirteen when Roshone pressed him into military service, fourteen when Amaran sent him to the front lines. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Fourteen when he died. In front of me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dalinar's next words were his own, tinged with horror as he shook his head, "And to think I almost entrusted a man who sent a fourteen year old child to die in battle with the Knights Radiant."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook his head, setting the papers aside, "The Highmarshal never told me this story Jasnah, but I thank you for bringing it to my attention. Yet another sobering reminder of the cost my men paid for my trust in Amaran and Sadaes." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah pursed her lips, "That is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>the point of that story, uncle." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" he asked, genuinely confused, "What other point is there?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "The structures that allowed these abuses to occur are </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>in place, uncle. How many more young boys must die before we implement a minimum age of service and remove the city lords' right of conscription? How many families must be persecuted and murdered before we introduce even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>degree</span>
  </em>
  <span> of oversight into the way they govern their people? This man, Roshone, had already murdered two people before you and Elhokar shipped him off to a small town with a vulnerable population of entirely darkeyes with no supervision whatsoever!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was exile-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Jasnah said quietly, "It was putting the problem where you didn't have to look at it anymore, and because of it, a child is dead. And that's just one that we know of." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar looked troubled, "What you seem to be suggesting… how, if thirteen year olds were not allowed to serve, would they learn of war? Adolin was younger than that the first time he accompanied me to a battlefield, I myself was younger still when I went with my own father. It is tradition, Jasnah. To outlaw it would likely lead to great unrest." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did it somehow escape your notice uncle," Jasnah said, voice tightening, "That my brother's assassin was a man who himself had been victimised by Elhokar's reign? It strikes me that a monarch willing to send people's children to die for their own gain is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>one that has a chance at remaining monarch for any real length of time, especially in our current climate." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar cast a forlorn look into the flames, brow furrowed. The sole log burned low, and Jasnah couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sat here, deep in thought, pouring over that book of his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Of hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> After all, it was Jasnah that first read it to him all those years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "It sounds," Dalinar broke the silence that had briefly blanketed them, "like your laying the blame for Elhokar's death at his own feet." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah tore her gaze from his bright, clear eyes, a lump of doubt suddenly caught in her throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did </span>
  </em>
  <span>she blame her brother for what happened to him? The same way she blamed her own close encounter with assassins on her foolishness?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> A little voice, deep inside of her, whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> If only Elhokar had been kinder as king. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> If only he hadn't gone to Kholinar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only he'd had the strength to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fight</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She'd read the reports, all of them, even the rambling, self deprecating waste of paper Stormblessed had handed over. She'd poured over every detail, interrogated every turn of phrase, hunted every half buried truth that dared think it could hide from </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And ultimately, the conclusion she had come to, even if she dared not admit it, could be boiled  down to a single, awful, seed of truth. A seed that had finally taken root.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deserved or not, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> blame Elhokar for his own death. She would not do as he had done. He had lived a history in front of her, laid out the age old cautionary tale of what became of monarchs who even briefly indulged in pettiness or cruelty. Jasnah would be better, for her own sake yes, but also for that of her people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I will be better," she said eventually, "Because our people deserve a leader they can trust to look out for them without their having to first achieve the impossible, will not saddle them with tyrants to appease their own conscience, and who will not allow them to be sent to their deaths for no reason." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah knew she was coming across as aggressive, and the guilt was evident in her uncle's face as he asked, "Very well. I doubt you would've come to me without an idea of what you wanted to do." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She drew his attention to the rest of her notes, "You knew my brother best during his rule, the decisions he made and why."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"These are a complete collection of those Lighteyes who faced justice, or rather </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn't</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at my brother's hand. We are going to go through each and every one until we are finished, and you will tell me the circumstances surrounding them, and any further </span>
  <em>
    <span>concessions</span>
  </em>
  <span> my brother made."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She paused, considering, then met Dalinar's eyes with her own, safe in the knowledge they were cold as steel, "I plan to fix these hurts and then some. I cannot undo the wrongs of the past, but I can most certainly fix that which Elhokar never got chance to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Something like pride flickered across Dalinar's face, and he smiled, "Very well then," he said, "It seems we've much to do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And with that, they settled down to work.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you very much to the people that have commented and left kudos so far! It always feels good to know I'm not screaming into a void haha. </p><p> Also this fic is apparently turning into me catharsis-ing the fudge out of all the slightly dodgy class takes in Stormlight lol, so I hope you guys are on board for that! 😂sorrynotsorry</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Oath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> The next meeting was scheduled for a week later, and Kaladin, having learned from what happened after the last time, had made sure to only schedule tasks for the rest of the day that he would be able to accomplish on his own. That way, he'd still be able to be productive even if he found himself… temporarily incapacitated. No one would be relying on him, so he couldn't fail them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I still don't like this Kaladin," Syl buzzed around his head, a soft glow in the early morning darkness as Kaladin straightened out his uniform in the mirror, "Last time you talked to Jasnah you were really upset. It's like you're </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hurt yourself, which just seems silly… right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He didn't miss the genuine concern over that last part. Neither of them had forgotten the honour chasm, especially not Syl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I'm not trying to hurt myself," he said, forcing a smile, "I promise. This is just the right thing to do. All those things I went through could finally be more than just old nightmares Syl - they could finally </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean </span>
  </em>
  <span>something to someone." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> When he thought about it, there was nothing he wanted more. The thought that some good could finally come from the horrors he'd experienced… it was almost too good to be true, "This is my chance to make it up to all the people I let down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Finally.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She didn't say anything to that, just watched him with a frown as he finished getting ready and set off to meet Jasnah. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steps away from the door, Syl finally spoke again. She'd been hanging upside down from a light fixture overhead, but she let her legs grow to be impossibly long so that her upside down face was nose level with Kaladin, causing him to stop short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So…" she began, as if this was a completely normal position from which to be having a conversation, "If you get… like you did last time, what do you want me to do?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped around her, "Whatever you want Syl, I came out of it eventually didn't I?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "After Sigzil got worried and came looking for you," she zipped forward to catch up with him, "I'm serious Kaladin, it's scary when you get like that, it's like you can't even hear me, you're just… empty. I keep thinking you're going to accidentally walk into a door or something. I bet you wouldn't even notice." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I always wanted a broken nose like Dalinar’s.” He grinned, and she rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I suppose it couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>your current dating life,” she said, “Have you spoken to Lynn yet by the way?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know I haven’t,” he said, “Just like you know I’m too busy to date anyone Syl.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Adolin says you’re just scared of being the less-awesome one in the relationship.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Adolin,” Kaladin put emphasis on the name, “should probably learn that spren are </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible </span>
  </em>
  <span>liars.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be sure to let him know,” she said, before sticking out her tongue and zooming away before Kaladin could say anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook his head, the slight smile the interaction had teased from him quickly fading as he remembered what he was about to do. He steeled himself, then knocked on the door, entering Jasnah’s rooms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Before we begin,” Jasnah seemed more upbeat than last time, and Kaladin couldn’t help the suspicion that mounted at the outlook, “I’d like to update you on another matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He frowned, glancing at Wit who was sat in the corner, inscrutable as ever. Kaladin genuinely couldn’t think what Jasnah would want to wait until they met privately to tell him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She didn’t pause for acknowledgement, instead just continuing on, “After our last meeting, I took the liberty of taking the transcript of our conversation to my uncle-” she stopped, frowning, “Highmarshal? Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>alright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He felt like she’d frown ice water over him. He wet his lips, fear curling in his gut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Everything he’d said, everything he’d confessed… to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dalinar</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He remembered a cell in the warcamps, the older man uttering the name Kaladin thought he would never have to hear again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He remembered Gaz and the bridge crews, his nickname there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He remembered a slave master, beating him with a walking stick, over and over until his skin felt like it was screaming with the pain, all because he’d dared to speak out to another slave about what had happened to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would Dalinar call him a liar? Strip Kaladin of his rank? Give command of his men over to some lighteyes?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The nightmare he’d had, over a week ago now, came back in full force. Vivid in the way that made his tongue feel hot and too big for his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The honour spren had stopped coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were squires - lighteyed squires, the sons of nobles, without spren yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> What would happen to Kaladin’s men? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  No. He wouldn’t allow it. Not this time. He sucked in Stormlight. Just a little. Wisps of it curled from his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He looked for Syl, she was nearby, good. He spread his fingers, ready to summon the Sylspear at a moment’s notice. They were up high, he had plenty of stormlight on him and could tell Jasnah did too from the way her havah hung, as if it was weighed down more than usual. He was next to the balcony edge again. Escape would be easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Escape would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> He took a deep breath, relief and stormlight flowing through him. Of course. This wasn’t some plot to trick him, to take him out when he was least expecting it, replace him with someone of better birth, with more </span>
  <em>
    <span>training. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> “Highmarshal?” Jasnah was asking, still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What did… what did Dalinar say, your highness?” He asked, voice trembling minutely. He balled up his fists to hide the fact that they were shaking too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She tilted her head a little, considering, “I convinced him to help me review those cases involving powerful lighteyes that my brother was involved with,” she said, mechanical, as if her mind was churning over some other problem, “I recalled his involvement with the case of your citylord, and presumed he would make a good candidate to assist me in parsing out some of my brothers more harmful decisions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> That was all?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… forgive me, Stormblessed,” Jasnah looked uncomfortable, glancing toward her wit, “Do you have a problem with my actions? I thought you of all people would be in favour of this sort of reform?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook his head quickly, “I’m sorry, I…” he swallowed around a lump in his throat, “I assumed our conversation regarding that part of my life might be kept confidential…” he knew it was of the nine fools before he even said it. Of course it wouldn’t remain private, the whole purpose of these meetings was for him to give her a story she could eventually take to the powerful lighteyes to change their perceptions of slavery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She nodded slowly, “You… would rather I hadn’t shared it with my uncle. I suppose I can understand that, and, well,” she paused, seeming uncertain of what her next words would be, “I suppose it must be difficult to be confronted with a superior suddenly knowing such intimate details of your life. I apologise for any inconvenience this may have caused in your working relationship with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>That’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>what she thought the problem was? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> As tempted as he was to leave it… “With all due respect, Your Highness, that’s not it at all.” in the corner, Wit had leaned over to listen more attentively. Storming man. Nearby, Syl started doing a concerningly accurate impression of a cremling with a rounded carapace, one that had gotten stuck on its back and was now waving its little legs frantically in the air. Storming man </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>storming spren. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, “It’s not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No.” He said, “My worry, is that last time I told your uncle I didn’t trust someone, it was Amaran and he called me a liar. Before </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whenever I told the truth, I…” his voice cracked. Note even the anger was enough to pierce that fear. He felt himself deflate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh.” Jasnah said softly, any former trace of offense gone, “I should have… I should have probably realised, or told you beforehand. I apologise. And, well, if it helps at all, this time he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>believe you. I made sure of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He looked up, and she smiled wistfully.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “We already found four similar cases of lighteyes being given punishments that left them in positions where they may be able to cause more harm, and from today, I will be implementing a mandatory minimum age of fifteen to join our armies, and of eighteen to be sent to the front lines.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> That was older than </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’d </span>
  </em>
  <span>been when he joined Amaran’s forces. Kaladin’s vision was starting to blur with hot tears, and he looked away, trying to discreetly blink them into nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I know that it won’t fix what’s already been done, and I am so deeply sorry for the grief this has caused your family,” Kaladin almost couldn’t stand the gentleness in her voice, so unlike the Jasnah he’d come to know, “But I swear to you, whilst I am Queen what happened to Tien will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>happen again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t hold back the tears then, and he had to bury his burning eyes in the sleeve of his uniform. Never again. Not another child would be sent to die. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> If only Kaladin could have protected Tien the same way Jasnah was now protecting those like him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was enough. It had to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “Thank you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah this chapter is shameless #JusticeForTien and I will not apologise lol. I am going full throttle down the road marked 'self indulgent af' at this point and I'm having a great time haha (also yes this is still *technically* cannon compliant until we get a wob saying otherwise lol)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> "If our intelligence is correct, we should be able to cause a significant disruption in the supply of farmed produce if we attempt to take back here," Kaladin watched as Sigzil pointed to a small town in Kholin on Shallan and Dalinar's map, "Which will force them to divert attention to securing alternate supply routes." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a meeting of the senior members of all the radiant orders aligned with Urithiru, the sort of meeting that tended to go about as well as could be expected when a group of twenty to thirty people with massively conflicting personalities tried to agree on more or less anything other than their dislike of each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>If </span>
  </em>
  <span>our intelligence is correct?" Shallan cut in, causing Sigzil to shrink about fifteen sizes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar gave her a harsh look that did little to cow her, then addressed Sigzil, "That sounds like a solid plan, soldier. Kaladin, when will the Windrunners be ready to undertake this operation?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin started slightly at being addressed. It'd been three days since his last meeting with Jasnah, but he was still in the process of shaking off the grip of the memories he'd pulled to the surface. Unfortunately, it was difficult to focus in meetings like this when he'd been kept up most of the past few nights by familiar nightmares of Amaram. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I err…" he had only a single foot here, in the strategy meeting with Dalinar's command staff. The other was in the soulcast building in Amaram's camp still, watching his friends be slaughtered, helpless, "We have a scouting mission visiting Amia right now Sir," he managed, the remembered sound of sizzling flesh providing horrifying background noise, "But we should be able to field a full compliment when they return." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Very good." Dalinar said, before moving on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Sigzil, fortunately, was used to covering for Kaladin in times like these. He fielded questions directed toward the Windrunners where they came up, and put forward ideas and plans that the team had discussed internally, diverting much of Dalinar and the other orders' attention away from Kaladin. Shallan cast him a single suspicious look, but he knew she wouldn't say anything. The two of them knew better than to judge where the other was concerned. They cared, but each appreciated the quiet acceptance and support the other provided too much to pry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, the rest of the meeting washed over Kaladin. He knew he would need to have a scribe read him a transcription later on, but forcing himself to be present was impossible. An edgedancer said something, and it seemed indistinguishable from the wind. Renarin piped up, and though Kaladin could hear his nerves, his words might as well have been spoken in another language entirely. They were planning an attack, this was important, but then the meeting was over and he could remember only his presence and none of what had happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Son," he blinked, Dalinar was trying to get his attention, "Do you have a moment?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes sir," he said, saluting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Good, I'd like a private word." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar led the way into an adjoining room, smaller than the main meeting area and sparsely decorated with only a few seats and a hearing fabrial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Take a seat, you seem tired," Dalinar said, gesturing to a chair. 'Seem' was probably a kindness on Dalinar's part. Kaladin was the sort of tired that whipped up the exhaustion spren into what could only really be described as a feeding frenzy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin sat though, and Dalinar followed suit before continuing, "I'm not sure if you've been made aware, but I spoke to Jasnah recently, and you came up." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "She told me," Kaladin glanced towards the door. Dalinar had shut it behind them, and now Kaladin's hands were slick with sweat. He dried them discreetly on his trousers. It was hard to grip even a shard spear with sweaty hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar eyed the fear spren that had clustered around Kaladin, "Well, then you're aware of the changes to our laws she has begun to implement." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin nodded stiffly. Sigzil, Skar, and Drehy had accompanied him to today's meeting. Sigzil was perhaps the weakest fighter among them, but he was no less capable of holding his own. They'd be able to put up a fight, they wouldn't go down anywhere near as easily as his spear squad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar frowned, "You're not in any trouble son," he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin knew better than to believe that. He adjusted the collar of his uniform, "Of course, sir." he said. His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Not to say I agree with Jasnah's proposals," Kaladin's heart tightened, "but I appreciate that my own experiences may have left me poorly placed to make decisions in these matters, and, well," he met Kaladin's eyes, and as much as Kaladin was desperate to look away, he found he couldn't, "I wanted to you to know how proud I am of you for this." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> His jaw slackened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You… what?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar smiled sadly, "You survived more than most men can even comprehend, and now here you are, using what you went through to help others." He shook his head, expression becoming wry, "I'm not sure about the wisdom or timing of what Jasnah is trying to achieve, but I may have to quickly learn to appreciate it with the both of you working together." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin couldn't meet Dalinar's eyes, still reeling slightly, he said "Thank you sir." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dalinar nodded, then, "Beyond that, I suppose, well…" he trailed off, glancing at Kaladin, then very consciously straightening, "I owe you an apology son. More than that, but for now I hope an apology will suffice." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl had joined them, but she sat quietly, perched on the ledge above the alcove where the heating fabrials were stored. There was a slight smile on her face, and she wore the girlish dress Kaladin was used to, her legs swinging idly. Kaladin didn't dare to say anything, he held himself rigid, blood thumping in his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I'm… not sure if Jasnah asked your permission in sharing with me what she did," Dalinar said, a trace of bemused fondness and irritation at his niece's actions staining his tone, "But share it she did, and, well, I feel deeply ashamed to find myself on the list of men that have hurt you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin opened his mouth to interject, but Dalinar held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks, "No, it's important I take responsibility for my part in what was done to you son." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  There were times where Dalinar seemed many years younger than his true age, such as when he was watching Navani caught up in an impassioned explanation of some project that was far beyond the understanding of anyone present, or just before taking flight with the Windrunners towards some battlefield. This was not one of those times. In that moment, Dalinar seemed every one of his years, "I spent… a very long time caught in the shame I felt at Gavilar's death, all the while still neglecting the responsibility for what I had allowed Elhokar to get away with. I worked to correct those mistakes as well, but now, I find yet another area in which I have been found lacking. This time it wasn't driven by drink, or shame, but plain and simple ignorance."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn't been looking at Kaladin, but he did now, "I've been thinking a lot about the time Elhokar had you imprisoned. I told you that what we did with Roshone was mercy, I can't imagine what that must have been like to hear. Alongside what I'd already done in promoting Amaram… Well. It's a wonder you were able to trust me as much as you did." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Several stuttering heartbeats of quiet, and Kaladin realised Dalinar seemed to be awaiting a response. He swallowed, "I… didn't really have much of a choice, sir. And, well," he felt his face grow warm, "There was a plan mentioned that involved all us former bridgemen taking the weapons and training we'd had and absconding to form a private mercenary company. Sir." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I suppose I'm incredibly fortunate you didn't," Dalinar said dryly, "Thank you, for trusting me. After all that…. it must've been excruciating." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin winced, it had been. He still went back to that cell in his nightmares at times. Still had times where he thought he could see captivity spren from the corner of his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was," he admitted, "But I think perhaps things needed to happen the way they did," he glanced at Syl again, and Dalinar followed his gaze, "It let me do what I had to to swear my third oath." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar's brow furrowed, "Knowing what the third oath of your order involves, I don't find that particularly reassuring." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt, oddly, a little braver. Enough to say, "It wasn't intended to be." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I suppose not." Dalinar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I cannot undo those past hurts or mistakes. I cannot change that I am indirectly responsible not just for what happened to your brother, but to you yourself. I cannot go back in time and live through the horror in your place, would that I could. Beyond the impossible… I'm not sure what I can do to even begin to atone." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin wasn't sure what to say to that. Dalinar was right, and he would have to forgive himself before he realised the truth - that Kaladin had forgiven him a long time ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was, however, one thing Dalinar could do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sir." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar smiled, "Thank you, son. I'll certainly try, but don't be afraid to pull me up if I begin to make similar mistakes." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll make sure to, Sir," Kaladin said, realising with a slight shock that it was true. Something, some tight knot of fear buried deep within him had loosened, and he'd come to realise something in a way he'd never done so before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He could finally trust Dalinar Kholin. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh look it's another conversation that never happened in cannon but I really wish would have! </p><p>  Thank you again so much for commenting and kudos! Remember, fic writers survive primarily off a diet of procrastinating our original works and comments, so I'm grateful for both!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Limits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a quick heads up that from here on out there are  likely to be direct discussions of things we didn't get much in the way of detail on from canon - specifically the time between Kaladin being made a slave and his becoming a bridgeman. I'll try to not go into too much detail because this isn't that kind of fic, and if you need more info please let me know</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"My dear," Wit said from his position perched once more on the edge of Jasnah's desk, "Whilst it is true that your smiles are such rare and precious things that I am loathe to dissuade them no matter the cause,  I must admit, to find such an expression on your face after receiving a somewhat grizzly death threat is a little concerning." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah continued to read the small leaf of paper with the awkward lettering with a grim smile. It was of fairly poor quality as threats of assassination went, whoever had sent it was clearly no ghostblood. She'd already summoned her ward, the girl's preoccupation with intrigue had its uses from time to time, now all that was left to do was to ponder what it </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ivory, who stood, human sized, at Jasnah's shoulder, explained to Wit, "When death threats are, it means action is."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wit sighed, "I don't speak inkspren unfortunately, Jasnah?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tore her eyes away from the page, "The lighteyes are beginning to take notice. This," she gestured to the page, "means they see me as a threat." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I thought you would be frightened," he looked pointedly around the room with it's single point of entry and the four guards stationed outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I'm absolutely terrified," she admitted, "but dear, I'm a fourth ideal radiant who can disappear into Shadesmar at the drop of a hat, not to mention the Queen of Alethkar. What's more, I'm ready and waiting for any who might try." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That you are," his lip curled as he took her safe hand in his, allowing his fingers to run along her covered palm. He seemed disappointed when it didn't have much of an effect, so she clasped his fingers tight and drew them to her lips, before releasing them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I have work to do love," she said, pretending it wasn't merely an excuse, "I have the finer points of this new decree to define, as well as reports on the estimated current number of under fifteens currently serving in our armies to review." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a seat in the chair opposite, one she'd had brought in specifically for the purpose of preventing him from lounging where he shouldn't have. He looked disappointed, but it was a subtle thing he masked well, and mostly hidden by obvious pride as he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah nodded, "I would appreciate your reviewing this speech I plan to make for the high princes next week. You have a knack for such things." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Of course my queen," he said, taking the paper, "anything you desire." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------------  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A week later found Jasnah once more meeting with Highmarshal Kaladin on the balcony. She had considered calling off this meeting. It was no secret that the man's mood had a tendency to dip perilously low, something that, due to these meetings, Jasnah had been keeping an unusually close eye on. So, she had been worried when Wit's former apprentice expressed his concerns, and when it had taken Dalinar a total of seven attempts to get the Highmarshal's attention following the meeting the other day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was a matter of pure and simple pragmatism. It wasn't unusual for sufferers of battle shock to become incapable of functioning independently, and she would be unable to continue her interviewing of him if he landed himself in the 'care' of the ardents. She couldn't help the slight shiver that ran up her spine at that. No. This was purely a professional concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> When she saw him, she wished she had gone through with cancelling today. There was several days worth of stubble sticking to his normally clean shaven jaw, and his usually immaculate uniform was wrinkled in a way that would've given her uncle conniptions. A true menagerie of unpleasant spren trailed in his wake - the usual exhaustion spren that nowadays he rarely seemed to be without, clusters of anxiety spren, pulses of fear spren whenever something even remotely startling jolted him, and even a gloomspren, its long face hovering behind him, caught in a perpetual moan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Are you sure you're well enough for today?" she asked him once more, exchanging a look with Wit, "We can always resume once you feel better-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "No." He said, leaving no room for argument, "I have to do this quickly or I may lose my nerve." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Very well." Jasnah said, searching for the man's spren to ensure she was present. The honour spren materialised on his shoulder and gave Jasnah a weak wave, "I suppose we should pick up where we left off last week, just after your betrayal at hands of Amaram." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded, but didn't say anything more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Are you able to go over what happened?" she prompted after the silence grew too heavy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Another nod, then he opened his mouth talk, before closing it again. His hand went to the brands on his forehead, palm digging in deep as if to drive off the long past pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Where were you taken?" she asked gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  "It…" he trailed off again, hand falling to his side, "It hurt…" his voice shook, "I don't really… I don't really remember much else. Just that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>and… and the smell." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He looked like he was about to be sick, "Burning people smells a lot like burning meat," he uttered, "I was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it just… it smelled like </span>
  <em>
    <span>meat." </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> "And you remember nothing from being betrayed by Amaram to your branding. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His gaze was somewhere too far for even Jasnah to reach, "The worst part was watching it happen to others… there was a little girl… I tried to save her but she was just too sick." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Infection?" Jasnah asked, attempting to avoid the nausea rolling in her gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah had heard similar stories from others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I'm sorry." She said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He fell quiet again, and Jasnah knew by now that this meant he needed a moment to collect his thoughts. Wit stepped in swiftly, pouring tea for all three of them, and pressing the steaming cup into Kaladin's shaking hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He stared at it for a long time, unblinking, until Wit said, "As horrifying as I'm sure it is seeing your reflection for what appears to be first time, you're supposed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>drink </span>
  </em>
  <span>it Highmarshal." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> His tone was far kinder than the words themselves, and it prompted Kaladin to take a sip. Jasnah shot Wit a grateful smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After several minutes, she asked, "Are you ready to continue?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded, the movement awkward and jerky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Alright," she said, "What happened after that?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was an excruciating process, the story of just that first month of his captivity. Jasnah had already learned far more about the process of selling another human than she'd ever wanted to, but to stop now would be giving up. What had happened to the subjects of her interviews, by their own people no less, was a great evil. It would, however, be a far greater evil for her to turn a blind eye. No matter the consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> So, she listened as he told her about being auctioned off to a slaver, then sold to a lighteyed estate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I remember," he said, voice long faded to little more than haunted utterances, "being mocked as a child for being allowed to learn from my father instead of working the fields as they did," his smile was dark and rueful, "I wonder what they would've paid to see me worming polyps the same as the rest of them." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "There's a difference though, between a farmer working a field and a slave working a field," Jasnah pointed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Kaladin nodded slowly, "The farmer isn't pushed to work until he can no longer stand, then beaten with a rod when he inevitably falls."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A rod?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded, "Most often. Once with a hoe." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bile rose in Jasnah's throat. She wanted to ask how he was still alive, but she didn't. She knew him well enough by now to know he asked himself that same thing every day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Do you still have the scars?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Another nod. Of course he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitated, her next question was a difficult one, "If you would allow it, I would like you to sit down with a sketch artist and allow them to catalogue your injuries…" she paused, he was beginning to go blank again, "I've found such records prove helpful when illustrating the severity of the problem."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Would… would it be Shallan?" he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah considered this carefully, "My ward is perhaps the most talented artist currently available to me," she said, enunciating each word with utter precision, "She is, however, yet to assist me in such a case. The realities of this project are incredibly brutal, and I wished to spare her the worst of it. But, given that Brightness Davar is a friend of yours, I would not be opposed if you feel it would make you more comfortable."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He looked a little lost at that, "I'm not sure." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You've time to think it over." she said, "I believe we've a fair few of these meetings ahead of us before we capture your story in its entirety, and afterwards I would like to go over more precise details, at least as much as you are able to recall." records were spotty, but it helped to be able to say precisely when a specific incident happened as much as was possible. The memories of those left in shock from their time in slavery were rarely completely reliable, but it helped to at least attempt to establish a pattern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded again, but didn't say anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "We've still time left," Jasnah said, "If you feel able to continue?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He did, going on to tell her of his first escape attempt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "There were four of us," this, at least, seemed easier for him to talk about than the endless abuses, "later, I'd try to take more, but I didn't think we'd get more than four out. One of the women worked in the laundry in the house, and she managed to steal clothing for us all - the sort that darkeyed servants wore. We left in the evening, walked out as the servants were changing shift, we…" he trailed off suddenly. Jasnah waited for him to continue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "One of the estate guards recognised us. We were caught… we…" he fell silent, staring at the wall behind Jasnah's head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Kaladin?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took an audibly deep breath, "They killed them, they…. in front of me, I… I couldn't,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fear spren, although there was nothing to be frightened of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shock spren, although the only shock was in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah watched, helpless, as his breath came faster. He rubbed his hands down his cheeks, shoulders heaving as if he'd just run a great distance. He shook where he sat, eyes fever bright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wit went to him, placed a hand on his shoulder. He jerked as if burned, and the man retreated under Sylphrena's protective glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence rang, bell-like in the air between them. Panicked breathing the only sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn't working. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Another attempt by Wit, then by Jasnah. Both proved fruitless. His spren spoke to him, but he didn't seem to hear her so she darted away, became one of the ticking hands on the time fabrial on the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a full fifteen minutes before Kaladin was calm enough for Jasnah to approach. She did, crouching beside his chair and placing an excruciatingly careful free hand on his forearm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was a gesture Elhokar had done for her when they were children. When she was fresh from the dark. It hurt, but he seemed to calm a little more under her touch, frenzied eyes seeking her calm ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "It's alright," she said, "You're alright. There's no one here but me, you, and Wit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just stared at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Should I get someone? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook his head. He looked… she was hesitant to say broken. It suggested he had nothing left to give. He did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was difficult, but she'd known it would have to happen since she watched the way Sigzil had to cover for him at the meeting,"I'm cancelling our next meeting." She said brusquely, "At this rate, you won't make it to the end of the week." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> His mouth dropped a little, shock spren exploding about him, "What? I thought- I thought- What about the lighteyes? I thought you needed someone they would," he swallowed visibly, "be able to see as an equal?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I still need your story," she said, maybe a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>quickly, "Which means I cannot break you before you've given it to me. This interview was designed for men without significant symptoms of battle shock," when he tried to object, she brushed him off, "No, you are not a well man, if you can't see that it's worse than I'd thought." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> His shoulders slumped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She continued, "That doesn't mean we can stop completely, this project is too important. We need a way for you to tell me all this that doesn't render you incapable of work." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "If there was a way…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>find it." She said, stern, "Until then, I expect you to continue performing your duties, and to meet with a sketch artist." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He responded well to her commanding tone, giving a firm nod, "Yes your highness, I'll see it done."  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Very good Highmarshal. Until next time." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Laughter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"I hate this Syl,"  Syl watched as Kaladin paced, alone, in the mid-morning gloom that spilled into his room. There was little she could do when he got this worked up, she couldn't hold him, shake him, couldn't even slap him like she'd seen lightweavers do to each other in their performances (Syl was yet to figure out how this worked, but it was at the top of her List of Things to Try When They Next Got Stuck in Shadesmar). Agitation spren clustered at his feet, exploding out with each footfall, snarling yellow mouths that chased away the exhaustion spren with terrifying ferocity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She followed him as he stalked from the empty fireplace to the empty bed, back again across the empty floor. It seemed suddenly very sad to Syl how alone the things in this room were, so she became a trumpeting baby axehound, bounding over the chair, leaving pawprints of silvery mud in her wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin just continued talking about Jasnah, "I thought finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>I would be able to help them, but then of course it turns out I can't. Because I'm too broken for even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jasnah </span>
  </em>
  <span>to logic into coherency." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was pointless trying to argue with him, she'd tried. And well, she'd try again, but it seemed non-urgent enough for her to run around chasing her tail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stilled, frantic footsteps falling quiet, "I just wanted to help, but I can't even do that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was slightly irritated that he hadn't realised how adorable she was being, but she went to him anyway, sitting on his shoulder. A strand of hair had fallen in front of his eyes, slipped free from where he'd tied it back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>was something she could fix. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She stuck out her tongue like she'd seen Shallan do as she sketched. It didn't make her </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>like she'd be any better at this, but she probably looked more competent at least as she gripped the strand and heaved it back behind his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She could feel him watching her, moody as ever but perhaps maybe a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>less </span>
  </em>
  <span>moody than before? At least she had his attention now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She pulled away, hovering in his direct line of sight, "You did help silly! You remember what she said about the army - they're not going to let teenagers fight anymore!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He'd been happy about that, at least, as happy as he got about anything. Syl had caught every single one of his private smiles and locked them tight in the part of memory she tried hardest not to let slip away. They lived now in the same place as those few memories left of her first radiant. She didn't remember his name, but she remembered how happy he'd been when they got to help people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Jasnah did that." Kaladin said, bringing Syl back to the present gloom, "I couldn't protect </span>
  <em>
    <span>one person</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she comes in and immediately saves them all. If it was that easy, why couldn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>do it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She raised an eyebrow much higher than any human could, in that way that always made the tower's children laugh with delight, "Last I checked you weren't Queen of Alethkar, Kaladin." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, "I should've tried harder, should've…" he scowled, "Storms, there must've been some way, I just wasn't enough."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went to slump in the chair by his desk, lowered his head to his hands, elbows rubbing creases into the sheets of neat glyphs that Syl recognised as Sigzil's hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There were lots of things she could tell him that were true. That the things he blamed himself for couldn't possibly be his fault, that he'd been little more than a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that it was other people who'd let </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>down, not the other way around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew he wouldn't believe her though, wasn't able to. And that was a thought that made her shiver with anxiety all her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She'd helped him with this before. Back in the warcamp when she'd still been perilously new, she'd brought him that strange leaf he'd seemed so disappointed to have lost the first time. It was a poison leaf, and he'd been planning to die. She didn't want to bring him poison again, but it was the only thing that had ever worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She watched his shoulders shake, he was crying silently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Not knowing what to do and also not wanting to leave him, she became light, indistinguishable from the windspren that had haunted Kaladin’s steps since Shadesmar. Things were simpler like this, when she could pretend she was no different from her cousins, racing them round corners, sticking things together and blowing books from shelves and hats from heads. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Soon though, she watched Kaladin’s head slump. Exhausted, he’d fallen asleep where he sat. She’d watched once, as Wit had laid a blanket over Jasnah’s shoulders when she fell asleep like this. The man had turned to her even though she hadn’t meant to be seen, and held a finger to his lips, a mischievous smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Don’t wake her,” he’d whispered, “The only time she ever sleeps is when it’s a trick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl remembered grinning, excited at the thought of being in on a secret. Now though, all she wanted was to do the same for her radiant, to lock him safe in some place where his mind couldn’t reach him anymore. She wasn't strong enough for a blanket though, not yet, so she just pretended, running a hand over the back of his head the same way she'd seen Hesina do when Kaladin and his father both fell asleep by accident during a visit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Then, she flitted off. She had other work to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> ----------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The first place she went was to the training grounds where Teft and Phendorana were overseeing Bridge Thirteen as they practiced sparring in the air. Kaladin always seemed sad when he watched the members of Bridge Four training their own squires, more sad than usual, which was a shame because like all Windrunners, they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> No, she wasn’t biased. They were just the best order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A young woman swooped gleefully, chased through the air by one of the original bridgemen. They sculpted the air around them, and Syl let herself be visible as she followed, cheering them on until the woman got in a strike with her training spear on the man’s arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them drifted to the ground, and Syl remembered why she’d come here in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Phendorana, unlike Syl, was what everyone back home had called a </span>
  <em>
    <span>proper </span>
  </em>
  <span>honour spren. Syl wasn’t sure how accurate she thought that was, but she was the closest Syl had to an authority on </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>radiant related. Syl was, of course, the bestest at being an honour spren, being the only one to have bonded a radiant prior to her current one. But Phendorana and Teft seemed to be doing well together (although Syl had also known Teft for longer and was not in a million years about to let Phendorana forget it).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ancient Daughter,” Phendorana said, bowing slightly at Syl’s approach, “Did you have need of me? Perhaps you were looking for a reminder in proper honour spren conduct in order to facilitate negotiations with our siblings back home?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Syl sniffed. Just because Phendorana liked to go around human sized didn’t mean she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>better </span>
  </em>
  <span>than Syl. In fact, Syl could be human sized too! She grew, feet brushing lightly against the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phendorana raised an eyebrow, “Well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Storming chull dung, Syl actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>need her advice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She put on her best ‘proper honour spren’ face, standing straight backed, as she said, “Teft’s doing very well recently, we were worried about him for a little while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Phendorana nodded, smiling with pride as she glanced over to where the older man was shouting something that could’ve been either encouragement or a reprimand at a couple of Windrunners. Syl wanted desperately to join in, but no, focus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Phendorana replied, “Yes, he is. Very well, a little more time, and I believe he’ll be as close to swearing the fourth ideal as Kaladin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl bristled a little at that. Kaladin would swear his fourth ideal when he was ready, and not a moment before. If that was possible. Syl wasn’t sure. So what if Teft overtook him? Teft was great, she’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>if he swore his fourth ideal soon. So suck on that Phendorana. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> But she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>have something she needed to ask, “How do you stop him going back? To what he was before?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phendorana considered Syl carefully, “I don’t,” she said, “He’s strong, as all radiants must be if they are to maintain their oaths. He stops </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kaladin’s strong too!” Syl exclaimed, then quickly put a hand in front of her mouth. She hadn’t intended to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I have no doubt he is, Ancient Daughter,” Phendorana smiled, “Just as I have no doubt that he isn’t truly going backwards, after all, your bond is still as strong as ever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl cocked her head to the side, “I… suppose you’re right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Before, she realised, Kaladin had given up on other people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Now, he’d given up on himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What do I do?” she asked, "What did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>do?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phendorana considered this, "I suppose I just followed Teft around telling him to say the words until he gave in and listened to me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I've already been </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing </span>
  </em>
  <span>that for more than a year now!" Syl said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Phendorana nodded sagely, "I suppose you have. Keep at it Ancient Daughter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl groaned. That was a very boring honour spren answer, “You are no help.” she complained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I never promised I would be."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Phendorana, Syl realised, was perhaps not the best spren to ask. She was far too perfect. Syl needed someone who was…. less so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> ---------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "Mmmmmm, Shallan does as she pleases, she does not listen to me," The cryptic hummed, positively vibrating with nerves, "I am supposed to be listening in to this conversation though." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They were in a basement with a pair of lighteyes, pattern hidden in the wood grain of a chair. Another man was tied to said chair, a bag over his head. Syl would probably have to tell someone about this, she doubted the cryptic and his Lightweaver would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> But, that wasn't the most important thing right now, she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>questions</span>
  </em>
  <span>, "Shallan has just as many bad things in her past as Kaladin does," Syl said, "But she doesn't freeze or wake up screaming or </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the things Kaladin does that make him turn dark." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "She becomes not Shallan instead," Pattern said, as if that made any more sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Veil and Radiant aren't Shallan though, Veil said so, they're different people they just have the same body." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Pattern hummed in agreement, "She becomes three when one is not enough."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So… you're saying Kaladin should become not Kaladin anymore? Then he'd stop being sad?"  Syl asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmm, perhaps that would work."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl thought about that, "I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kaladin though, even if he's moody sometimes." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I like Shallan too." Pattern sounded impossibly sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl decided he probably wasn't the best spren to ask either. Typical cryptic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------------- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It hurts him, what we do. That is why we stopped." Ivory was the same size as Syl, although he would easily shift to whatever size he chose. The next room over, Syl could hear Jasnah talking - not Wit, but some other important lighteyes. Ivory seemed uninterested in human affairs however, and so Syl had found him carefully studying the ticking of a time fabrial. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl sat easy atop the fabrial, watching him, "That hurts him too, though," she said, "He was so happy when he heard what Jasnah had done in stopping children from fighting, but now he's twisted it all up in his mind." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Raising the age was right. We knew not the full extent of what happened in the smaller townships. This was no excuse, and we are sorry." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Syl wasn't sure she'd heard an inkspren apologise for anything before, and she was a little taken aback, "That's okay, you've fixed it now and you're working hard to make it okay again!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It is because of you and your radiant that we can do this," Ivory said thoughtfully, "You are...  perhaps not so terrible for an honour spren, Sylphrena." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl blushed silvery blue, "You're not so terrible for an inkspren Ivory."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You came for my help however," he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She nodded, "Jasnah is so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>at being… you know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She is logical, like a spren. This is." Ivory agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do I get Kaladin to be like that without making him not Kaladin?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You cannot," he said, "This is how Jasnah is. Your radiant is… emotional, like most humans. This is not bad, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just want to help." Syl said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I know. I am sorry I do not know more of humans. Maybe you should ask one of them?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Syl found Adolin in the part of Urithiru Navani had reluctantly agreed to section off as a training ground. He was practicing with Maya again, without his plate, running through the smooth motions of a sword kata. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl could hear Maya screaming from here, but she was used to the sound of summoned shards by now and it didn't frighten her as much as it once had. It helped that Maya herself didn't sound frightened - instead she sounded angry, as if she would be more than happy to destroy any who harmed Adolin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She stayed invisible for a little while. Even if it wasn't nearly as good as flying, watching Adolin fight was impressive. This was probably as close to as good as flying you could get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He finished his kata, executing an impressive swipe with the blade. Sand rose in an arc around him, thrown up by the ferocity of the motion. Syl watched as the dust drifted back down down down, and then she was dust as well, lazily floating to the earth until she lay, staring up at a clear sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin had moved on by that point, and was ladelling water from a barrel. Syl zipped over, perching on its lip before becoming visible, feet dangling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin grinned broadly when he saw her, “Syl!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hello Adolin,” she said grinning back, then, remembering the sketch he’d showed her the other day, she floated into the air, changing into the beautiful floaty Thaylen-style long skirt and silk blouse, lace petticoats rustling in an imagined breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What do you think?” she asked, giving a little twirl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He chuckled, “You look wonderful as ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She bowed, “Why, thank you, at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>acknowledges how incredible I am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Speaking of Kaladin,” Adolin said with a sly smirk, “How is he? Still grumpy and stubborn?” his tone was light, but Syl could hear the worry in it. He hid it well, but Adolin had a lot of things to worry about, and she suddenly felt a little guilty for bringing him more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, you know…” she settled back on the edge of the barrel, drawing silvery ripples across the surface of the water with a bare toe, “Moody as ever, and still refusing to listen to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>word </span>
  </em>
  <span>I say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin put the ladle down, then picked Maya up from where he’d leaned her against the wall. He sounded impossibly tired when he said, “I think he just needs time Syl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She huffed, “He </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs </span>
  </em>
  <span>to listen when I tell him that something is a bad idea. I’m very clever you know, I know exactly how long humans need to sleep and also that he is not doing it right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted, “Good luck with that one, I’m a highprince now and he still doesn’t listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>a piece of the almighty,” she retorted, “I definitely outrank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook his head, “I suppose you probably do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She jutted out her chin as she’d seen Sebarial do at times, “And you’d best not forget it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin looked down, expression turning serious, “You know, if you ever need any help Syl, you can always come and get me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I know,” she said, then, glanced towards his sword, “I actually had something I wanted to ask you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “You did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yep!” she floated to the ground, inspecting Maya closely. There was something chillingly morbid about being this close to a shardblade. She wondered if she’d known Mayalarian once. Probably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She could feel Adolin’s eyes on her, so she floated back up to be level with him, “She’s more alive than the other blades.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded slowly, “I… suppose she is.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Because of you, of what you’re doing here.” Syl continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I… I don’t really know what’s happening with her,” Adolin admitted, a little sheepish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “She’s coming back, whatever you’re doing, it’s helping, I… what </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>you doing Adolin? It’s helping her, but what is it?” Syl asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He cleared his throat, looking away, looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>down </span>
  </em>
  <span>at Maya, “I suppose I’m just treating her like I would anyone else. I think… I think she finds it comforting, the normalcy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl nodded, “That makes sense, and that actually helps. Thank you, Adolin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin smiled, broad and winning as it always was, “Anytime Syl, Anytime.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl flew off again, resolved. It hurt to see Kaladin struggling, and it always would, but maybe, just maybe, if she remembered that it was okay to laugh around him, he would eventually start laughing too</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter may or may not have just been an excuse to write spren shenanigans, and also because Syl is still best spren, no matter how amazing Design is or how adorable the Sibling is (I love them so much, you better not hurt them Navani!).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Worlds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  It took several days for Kaladin to make a decision regarding Jasnah's 'forensic artist' as she called it. He wasn't fond of the idea at all. Even though as a bridgeman and slave he'd neither been afforded the dignity nor means to cover up, it was one thing to be a single scarred torso among many, and quite another to be studied like a cadaver freshly brought to his father's table for autopsy. If he had to pick someone though, he would rather it were a friend, someone who already knew the truth, than a complete stranger. So, he told Jasnah, and Jasnah asked Shallan, and Shallan said yes provided they both discussed it with Adolin first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, all three of them met during the late afternoon lull at Jez's Duty. The only other patrons there when Kaladin arrived were a couple of elderly men perched at the bar, chatting about heralds knew what to the barmaid, who seemed to be having to put in a concerted effort not to look bored. He found Adolin and Shallan already there, both sipping from glasses of yellow. Kaladin ordered a small tumbler of cheap blue, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Dalinar that told him in no uncertain terms that drinking was unbecoming of an officer. He needed the burn of if he was going to get through this meeting </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Little early for blue isn't it bridgeboy?" Adolin asked jovially as Kaladin slid into the booth opposite the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You expect me to be able to deal with the both of you without it?" he said with a scowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Don't be sour," Shallan said, not looking up from the chull she was carving into the table, "I saw how much you paid for that drink Kaladin, it should provide enough foul taste on its own without your words contributing." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Already?" Adolin asked, exasperated, "Can you not go two minutes without picking at each other?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They both said, "No," simultaneously, then Shallan grinned, planting a peck on Adolin's cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin looked away. Storms, whatever had made him think he wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Alright," Shallan said, moving away from Adolin and sitting a little straighter. She wasn't Radiant, but Kaladin could tell her other personality was close, waiting to step in if Shallan needed it, "Let's get this out of the way." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Both Adolin and Kaladin straightened to match her posture as she drew their attention to a folio already on the table. This was the concentrated, focused version of Shallan - the one that had gotten them out of the chasms and then later Shadesmar on the strength of her mind and fortitude alone. Jasnah had said that she wanted to spare Shallan this, that Shallan was weak. She was wrong though, regardless of what anyone said, herself included, Shallan Davar was anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>but </span>
  </em>
  <span>weak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She proved it when she opened the folio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Storms Shallan,” Adolin murmured, setting his drink on the table. Shallan briefly squeezed his arm, but her attention was on Kaladin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “These,” she explained, “Are the illustrations from Jasnah’s previous interviewees.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She flicked through, showing them. A close up of a woman’s mouth, tongue cut out. Vicious burn scars covering the entire left side of a man’s torso. A child’s face with a hole rotted through her cheek. There were more, some too horrifying to even mention, others nauseatingly familiar. Backs covered in criss-cross scars from a whip, shoulders brutalised, bones set at poor angles that must have been excruciatingly painful. Brands, some smeared and unrecognisable from infection or poor treatment or deliberate mutilation. Every single princedom was represented. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin glanced towards Adolin when they passed the first image of someone with a brand indicating they were from Adolin's princedom. He looked unsettled, and Kaladin wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Beside each image, the choppy form of women’s text marked out… something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What does the writing say?” Kaladin asked Shallan. His own voice was steady. He’d seen all this in real life, a picture was nothing compared to that. He even recognised some of the pictures - that was the particularly nasty scar he’d caught glimpses of on Hobber’s hip, and he recognised that pattern of lashes from Drehy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re descriptions of how each injury was obtained as far as the victim can remember, with undertext from the supervising surgeon regarding the accuracy of each account with regards to the observable pattern of injury,” Shallan said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was then that Adolin spoke, “The girl, the one bearing the brand of Kholinar, could you read that one to us?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan nodded, expression grave, she flicked to the page he’d referred to, then took his hand as she began to read, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Extensive scarring across left thigh reportedly caused by an axehound attack when subject was…” she took a shaky breath,  “Was pushed into a pit during a dog fight for the entertainment of her first lighteyed master at the age of nine. Extensive scarring covering the entirety of the posterior caused by regular whippings from all twelve of her lighteyed masters. Subject reportedly suffered extreme malnourishment prior to her release following her mother’s repayment of debt owed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Her mother sold her into slavery?” Adolin sounded scandalised, “How could that happen? What kind of parent would do that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin wasn’t sure he had the energy to explain this to Adolin. To explain that the girl's mother probably had other children and no other way to put food on the table. That the debtor was probably violent. Had probably demanded the girl in her mother's place because what better way was there to hurt someone?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>girl, but he’d known a few dozen like her, seen them murdered and brutalised and been unable to help. He wouldn't be able to talk without getting mad, and experience had taught him a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>well that confronting powerful people with truths they didn't want to hear rarely ended well for anyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He clenched his jaw, looking deliberately away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan stepped in, “Sometimes parents are just… cruel. It can't be helped. This is why laws like what Jasnah is trying to build are so important - to keep the undeserving safe from cruelty."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s… unthinkable.” Adolin said, and Kaladin felt anger surge within him, spren pooling at his feet like boiling blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He loved them both, but storms, “It's not that simple Shallan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan cocked her head, “What do you mean? No one </span>
  <em>
    <span>forces </span>
  </em>
  <span>a parent to sell their child into slavery.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin groaned, “Can you even hear yourself?”   </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Maybe if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>explained </span>
  </em>
  <span>what you mean instead of assuming we’re all psychic!” she snapped back, her own anger spren collecting at her feet, golden threads twisting through her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin laughed bitterly, “Last time I tried to explain anything to a lighteyes they locked me in a prison cell and threatened to have me executed!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>a lighteyes!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  "Not by choice!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Oh, because no darkeyes has </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>hurt anyone before, not like it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>your friend </span>
  </em>
  <span>who murdered Elhokar!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Shallan didn't matter anymore, because he was back </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Shallan and Urithiru and Jez's Duty didn't exist back </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Elhokar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Moash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Moash who </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kaladin </span>
  </em>
  <span>liberated, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kaladin </span>
  </em>
  <span>trusted, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kaladin </span>
  </em>
  <span>taught to kill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Elhokar with a spear through his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Screaming.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Blood on the palace floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The stench of spilled guts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Blood from Elhokar's lips instead of the words Kaladin </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>would've saved him- </span>
</p><p>
  <span> A trickling breeze and stone, Kaladin blinked. They were outside Jez's Duty, Kaladin on the floor, huddled against a wall. He was shaking, breath coming in gasps, heart racing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin and Shallan were both there, Shallan as Radiant, ushering along passers by as they tried to stop and stare. Adolin was crouched next to Kaladin, Syl hovering his shoulder, gripping his shoulder tight - </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   "C'mon Kal," he said, "You're alright, you're safe, it's just us." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin let out a long, shaky breath, looked to meet Adolin's eyes, "We're… outside?" he managed, then frowned, "What happened, did we get kicked out?" It wouldn't be the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin seemed relieved to hear him talking and barked a laugh, "No bridgeboy, you started to…" he gestured vaguely in Kaladin's direction, "You know, then Radiant popped out and said we should get you outside." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. Of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He leaned his head back against the wall, breathing deep the cool air that smelled of nothing but the chouta sizzling on a nearby food stand. It had been a good call, coming out here. Sensation helped sometimes, when he lost himself in the memories like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What, err," Kaladin looked back to Adolin at the sound of the other man's voice, "What happened Bridgeboy?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin let his eyes slide shut. Kelek's breath. He'd made a right storming fool of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Kal?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook  his head, lurching to his feet, a little unsteady. Adolin followed swiftly, holding out an arm, seemingly in preparation for Kaladin to fall. Kaladin scowled at him, and he withdrew it hastily, "I'm fine, Adolin," Kaladin said, "Sorry for worrying you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shame spren fluttered around Kaladin, but they both ignored them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Seeing that Kaladin was standing, Radiant stalked over, tilting her head as she looked Kaladin up and down. She looked to Adolin, "Well?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin scratched the back of his neck, "He says he's fine." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Radiant nodded brusquely, "Very well." she folded her arms looking sternly at the both of them, "Now, all three of us are going to head back to me and Adolin's suite where we will have </span>
  <em>
    <span>privacy</span>
  </em>
  <span> to discuss this properly. Understood?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They both nodded very quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  "Good," she said, and began to lead the way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> They sat, all three of them plus spren, in the cosy seating area in Adolin and Shallan's suite. Whilst Adolin's touch was visible in the carefully selected colours and the sleek accent peices, Shallan had made her mark everywhere else, with plants far more interesting looking than they were stylish, and art supplies scattered in odd places - like sticking up from sofa cushions waiting to smear charcoal on Kaladin's clean white shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She blushed when he handed the charcoal over to her, stashing it away in her satchel, hair having faded back to red.  She pulled the folio out once more, and Kaladin pushed his seething irritation as far down as he could get it to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"These," Shallan tapped the folio with her freehand, "Are the sorts of drawings Jasnah wants me to do of you, Kaladin." it was killing her not to point out that her work would be of a far superior quality, Kaladin could tell, "Which is why I wanted to talk with Adolin first." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin looked up at that. He'd been staring at the closed book on the table, "You did?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes dear, keep up," Shallan said brusquely, "Due to the, err," pink stained her cheeks and she avoided eye contact with both of them, "Compromising nature of the images, I wanted to make sure you were aware of the context beforehand, and give you the chance to object."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin frowned, then looked to Kaladin, "You have scars like this?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes…?" Kaladin said, a little confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And… this drawing," he turned back to Shallan, "it would involve him telling you about them, like the people in this book." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That is rather the point, love," she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded slowly, then, determined, "Alright," he said, "But I'd like to be present when you do it."  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They both stared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin continued on hurriedly, "It's not that I don't trust you Shallan, because  do, all </span>
  <em>
    <span>three</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you," he glanced to Kaladin, "You too Bridgeboy." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Silence stretched over them, and Kaladin found himself unable to do more than stare in disbelief. He wasn't sure if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adolin there. A glance at Shallan confirmed she was thinking along similar lines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Adolin…" She said, "If you trust us, then why? It won't be pleasant." she glanced at Kaladin, pleading. She already knew what horrors lurked in Kaladin's past. Perhaps not in any great detail, but she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was a part of them that was the same, the part that knew what it was to be trapped and helpless for years on end as the world slowly crumbled around you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same could not be said for Adolin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That's why I have to be there Shallan, I won't stand to the side again whilst the two of you march towards horror," he said, "I can't. I need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan was silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin wasn't, "Blood of my fathers Adolin, I'm not some creature in a menagerie," he stood, straightening his uniform coat, "If you want to hear a horror story, ask your wife to read you one." He made for the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Kaladin…" Shallan or Veil or Radiant called out after him, but he didn't listen. If he really had to do this, he'd make do without Shallan. He'd ask Jasnah to get one of the women who'd worked on the other drawings to do it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "They care about you Kaladin," Syl said, later, as he poured over a battlefield map, "And now they both feel terrible. You should apologise." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He balled his hands into fists on the table in front of him, "No, Syl." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't understand," she said, coming to rest on the lip of an empty glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I wouldn't expect you to." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please Kaladin," her voice was a half remembered whisper, a gently tingling bell, "Explain it to me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Well, he owed her that much, he supposed. He leaned back in his chair, resting his palms against the edge of his desk. He met her eyes, so earnest, the very essence of an expression glimpsed a thousand times, "I can't… I can't be </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>Syl." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Both what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to articulate, but he tried, "I can't be… I can't be their friend </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>their wakeup call. Shallan…. Shallan I already have sorted in my head," Shallan was easy, clueless and  naive about the everyday, mundane evils that most people dealt, but intimately familiar with how dark it was possible for a human soul to be. He knew there would be no great reckoning if she saw just a little more. But Adolin...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If I let Adolin into that part of my life," he explained, "I have to think about the ways he's already </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I met him in Sadaes's war camp, Syl, I know that he could've left me there to rot as a bridgeman for the rest of my life and not lost a wink of sleep."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She looked confused, "He saved you though Kaladin, in Kholinar. And before that, when he locked himself in a cell just to help you!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Would he have done that if he didn't know my name?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She was quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That's why I can't let him into that part of my life, Syl," he said, and it hurt to say, because he was only just realising it was true,  "he cares about Highmarshal Kaladin Stormblessed, Captain Kaladin, even… he even cares about the person I am really, the broken one, and for that I'm so, so grateful. But he never cared about Kaladin the slave, and… I don't think I can forgive him that, not yet at least." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl seemed to ponder this, even getting up and strolling across to desk to perch weightlessly on his knuckles, "I think," she said eventually, "I think the only Kaladin that Adolin cares about is his </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kaladin. And I think he wants to understand him better, every version, even the ones that might not like him back." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Maybe," Kaladin said softly, "But maybe I'm tired of giving pieces of myself away to help lighteyes feel better about hurting me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You're pushing your friends away Kaladin." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded. Let the conversation thrash its final painful throes, then finally fall still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl left, gave up on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And so, he passed the night awake and waiting for the sun to find him. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So... yeah. I love Adolin and Shallan as much as the next Stormlight fan, so it is with love that I plan to make them confront their privilege, I promise! (Also because I find the dichotomy of coping in WoR between Shallan's trauma with privilege and resources and Kaladin's without to be fascinating to explore)</p><p> Thank you again to everyone who's commented so far, it's always lovely to hear what people think! And if I haven't heard from you yet, I'd really love to! It really helps keep me motivated to know other people are as invested in this as I am!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Image</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was early morning, and Jasnah, along with her typical guard retinue, had agreed to accompany Adolin as he took Gallant out to exercise. Ostensibly, he'd invited her along for the company. In reality, he was worried that spending all her time in her study would result in her becoming even more reclusive and eccentric, at least by reputation. Jasnah herself may not realise it, but it was good for a queen to be seen doing something other than talking to spren and mad heralds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She understood image; she was attired in a sleek purple riding havah and trousers that somehow complimented both her own skin tone and the deep chestnut colour of her mount, and Adolin doubted he could've chosen better himself. To the casual observer, Jasnah was the very portrait of queenliness. If you asked her political associates however, they would tell you she was withdrawn and surly with a tongue sharper than any shard blade, living or not. Adolin found it difficult to tell if this oversight was deliberate negligence on his cousin's part, clever political manoeuvre, or just that - an oversight. Whatever it was, it wouldn't hurt for her to come riding with him every now and again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It also came with the added bonus of his being able to ask her advice regarding a certain irritating bridgeboy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I find it incredibly hard to believe you don't know what you did wrong cousin," She said curtly as they trotted past the farms where the gemhearts were just beginning to be put to use, "Given that you have the interpersonal aptitude required to wrangle my Wit into getting me out here in the first place." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin hid his reddening ears with a careful ruffle of his hair, "I'm his friend Jasnah, but he'll tell you anything you ask. But if I ask for just a glimpse into his past, he starts avoiding me!" All Adolin had seen of Kaladin since their disagreement was Syl, and if he so much as dared ask after him, she just looked sad and said all Kaladin needed to come around was time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that jealousy I detect?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "No," Adolin grumbled, feeling like a pouting child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I have no desire to become embroiled in you and The Highmarshal's petty squabbles," Jasnah said, firmly pulling her horse from where it was licking to get at the grass, "But I will say that the only reason he's telling me anything is because he cares deeply about the project we're working on."  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin found himself scowling in a way that was deeply reminiscent of his missing best friend, if anything, he needed Kaladin back so that he could take care of all the grumpiness, "I was trying to help too, I wanted to see what it was he was fighting so hard for." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Adolin," Jasnah said, "You shouldn't need a demonstration to know that slavery and abuse are wrong."  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed hard, "What do you take me for? Of course I know that, and Kal knows I know that too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Does he?" Jasnah's tone was gentle where her words were not, "Where were you, cousin, when he was being forced to run at parshendi arrows?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Worrying over my father losing his mind," Adolin snapped to cover the rising guilt, "What about you Jasnah? I didn't see you marching over here to help, not when your mother was being </span>
  <em>
    <span>eviscerated </span>
  </em>
  <span>by her political opponents, nor when your brother was so paranoid he faked his own assassination!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her eyes narrowed, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>was trying to stop a storming desolation. And yes, I failed, I will admit that freely. But you failed as well cousin. If family drama were an excuse for ignoring crimes against humanity none of us would ever get </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> done." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What did you want me to do? I wasn't high prince back then. I had as much swaying power politically as one of Sadaes's wet farts," he argued. They'd neared the end of the trail now, they'd been plodding along slowly, but Adolin could see the stable in the distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah had turned to look at it, and her braids glistened in the pale Urithiru light, "We sit atop a society built upon slavery, abuse, and oppression. We have a duty to fight against it where we can, and where we cannot, we must vow to do better," she turned, meeting his eyes with her own piercing blue, "We do not get to be idle rich Adolin, not when the backs of thousands strain to keep us here. Recognising that is the first step. The next one is up to you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sadeas's betrayal was the worst thing that ever happened to me," Adolin said to the darkness of his bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He'd had a lot to think about this morning, and had convinced Shallan, who was exhausted from a day doing… whatever it was she did all day that he did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to think about, that they could both use an early night. She'd agreed readily, and she lay beside him now, clad in a silken nightgown, emerald green, safehand sleeve slit down the side with not a button in sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She trailed the exposed tip of her finger down his bare chest, not in a way that suggested she was interested in something more, but in a way that suggested closeness and familiarity. Intimacy that didn't burn with the passion of fresh coupling, Adolin was beginning to find, provided a far more pleasant warmth, one that he was growing used to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He still felt his gut tingle when he clasped the hand in his own, the bare flesh, normally covered, was delicate and vital against his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dear, could we perhaps save talking about Sadaes for outside of the bedroom?" Shallan mumbled into Adolin's side, reminding him of his earlier train of thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Sorry my love, I was just thinking…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She sighed, pushing herself away from Adolin to lie back on her pillow, red hair vibrant even in the darkness, "Whatever it is, you're not going to sleep until it's off your chest, are you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, planting a kiss on her cheek, "Probably not, no." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright then," she shifted to properly face him, "Out with it, I'm tired and you promised me an early night." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Right, well," he found the edge of her sleeve, and ran his fingers across the fine embroidery, "I spoke with Jasnah today- don't roll your eyes, she's my cousin." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Of course, not like she's controlling and stubborn." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "She's also the </span>
  <em>
    <span>queen</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Another eyeroll. He decided to ignore it. "Well, I was talking to her and it got me thinking… Sadaes betraying us was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>I've ever experienced. Even now, you know how I am when he comes up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan nodded with the exhaustion of someone who'd endured far too many tangents from her partner about how terrible Sadaes was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Afterwards though, father and I fought tooth and nail to remove him from power, and yes, to get revenge to a large degree," he continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I remember," Shallan said, "I came up with an ingenious plan and that storming bridgeman ruined it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That's… sort of what I was thinking about," Adolin said, a little more cautiously, "That one moment, that was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shallan, and it was terrible because I knew in my heart that I was going to die, that my men and my father were going to die, and that there was nothing I could do. And it drove the both of us to extremes, supported even by the king." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And rightly so," Shallan said, "Sadeas was a piece of work." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you not see though?" he clasped her hand in his, finding her eyes in the dim light that escaped in through the curtains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "See what Adolin?" she looked confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I always understood where Kaladin was coming from with Amaram, I prided myself on it in fact, I stood with him when nobody else would," he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes, you're wonderful Adolin, well done," Shallan said dryly, "What's your point?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, "When I wanted justice, the king himself was on my side. When Kaladin, the man who saved my father's life, wanted the same, nobody believed him, and we locked him in prison for pursuing it for himself. And… well… more than that. What Sadaes did to those bridgmen… it was much, much worse than what he did to us," he turned to face her again, "Thousands dead, Shallan, we don't even know their names, never </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared </span>
  </em>
  <span>to know their names. And I just… I did nothing. The whole while."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You had bigger concerns-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He sat up, rubbed at his eyes, "Bigger than the massacre being carried out for my family's benefit? I sought vengeance for the death of my uncle - by that logic, how many ought to seek vengeance against me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She shifted joining him, "You can't care about every life, love, you'll drive yourself mad." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Jasnah cares," he said softly, "She would never permit the things Sadaes did, or at least, she wouldn't spend her time drinking and having, err, relations with women whilst he murdered our own people." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because Jasnah is the picture of a healthy work-life balance." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kaladin cares, he cared even when he didn't have the power to change it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And look what it's doing to him." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin pulled her close, her smaller body warm against him. Her hair smelled sweet, "I know, storms I know, but… don't we owe it to our people to serve them as best we can?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Maybe. But we don't have to kill ourselves to do it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Why?" Adolin asked, "We ask them to die for us, shouldn't we be willing to do the same?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Love, I think you're overthinking this. It's not that complex. No one forces the darkeyes to do anything, they're responsible for their own choices." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I feel like I'm not doing enough…" Adolin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe not, but dear, if you're going to save the world, can’t it wait till tomorrow?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Alright, tomorrow.” he agreed, then settled down into bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day, Adolin set about his plan to save the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Well. Maybe not the whole world just yet, but at least his little piece of it. He dressed casually - a uniform with minimal alterations, just neatly pressed and lightly tailored, and made his way over to the corridor in Urithiru where the Windrunners had taken up residence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was early still, and the former bridgemen had never </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>fit Adolin’s father’s mould as to what an ideal unit should look like. So, men shouted across hallways to each other, hung from walls, and not a one of them had their uniform on properly yet. As he made his way towards where their officers usually took breakfast, Adolin was struck, as he often was, with the realisation that </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>was where Kaladin kept his warmth. For as much as his friend attempted to look like a proper officer, as tight laced as Dalinar himself, Adolin saw to the heart of it. Kaladin had created a family from these men and women, not just a wing of an army as his father would have done, and they were that much stronger for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>mean that getting answers out of them could be somewhat difficult. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Aye?” The surly older Windrunner called Teft said when Adolin told him he was looking for Kaladin, “And what is it you want with him? Last I heard he was cursing your name up a storm lad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin groaned internally. He’d forgotten how protective they all were of their commander. This, it seemed, was going to be his morning.  He channeled his father when he said, “I’m a highprince soldier, I have urgent matters to discuss with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And we ain’t under Alethi jurisdiction.” The man shot back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin pinched his lips, “Fine,” he said, “But if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>see him, would you please tell him I just want to talk?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man grunted. Adolin, whilst not yet completely fluent in bridgeman grunts, was definitely at least conversational and took that as his que to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The next Windrunner he came across was no more helpful. He'd thought at least that Skar would be more amenable to cooperating with Adolin, but the man had just taken a single look at him and shook his head, "Nope. I've a policy of not getting mixed up in lovers' quarrels, sort it out between you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I thought we were friends?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Sorry sir, but I do not want to get on Kal's bad side right now." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin sighed, moving on again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> After being taunted by a grand total of three upside down Herdaziens, being offered breakfast and what what was either amateur philosophy or genuine cooking advice by the large Horneater bridgeman, and accidentally sending Lynn into a brooding silence to rival one of Kaladin's own, Adolin finally admitted defeat in getting the men to help him find Kaladin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he took to wandering the halls of Urithiru shouting for Syl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I know you can hear me!" he yelled  drawing more than a few odd looks, "C'mon Syl, I just want to talk to him!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was a long time before she appeared, well into the afternoon. She was hovering before him in the short, misty dress she most often defaulted to. Adolin hadn’t thought it possible for spren to look tired, but Syl most certainly did. He hadn’t seen her so downcast since they’d been trapped in Shadesmar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Syl?” he asked, “Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her lip wobbled, “No, no it’s not alright, not even a little bit. Jasnah’s scribe came this morning, and now I don’t know what to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adolin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All thoughts of their quarrel forgotten, Adolin simply looked at her and said, “Take me to him,” and she did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Uh oh</p><p>(also sorry for that first paragraph, I can't write horses, I've never been able to write horses and I need to stop trying)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Restraint</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A couple of extra TWs for this one, will put them in end notes to avoid spoilers seeing as they're specific to this and the next couple of chapters, will also summarise below that so you don't miss anything if you need to give this one a miss or in case you're like me and find potentially triggering content easier to handle if it's been summarised first :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  The scratching of the scribe's pencil was insistent as she studied Kaladin, eyes cold and blue as the examination table beneath him. He wore nothing but loose cotton drawers, laid out and shivering. This had been a bad idea. He wanted to leave, run, fight - but he felt trapped, too close to all the times as a slave he'd been similarly stripped and inspected, every inch of him poured over like an animal taken to market. He would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>cry in front of this stranger. He couldn't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had fetched his highest price the first time he'd been sold. The Brightlord's estate had been failing for a long time, and what once had been a hundred slaves became ninety, then eighty, less and less until there were only ten of them. Kaladin still fought, still tried to run, still failed. The beatings became more frequent, the work more brutal, until one day, the last ten were taken to market. Made to stand for days in a pit in the ground waiting for sale, scrabbling in the dirt for the few morsels of food tossed their way. One of the others died. Eventually, they were pulled out, examined in nothing but their loincloths. Sold or found wanting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And this one?" the scribe asked, and Kaladin started, heart pounding as he was pulled from the memory. She'd drawn his torso, large enough to take up half the page. She was pointing to a jagged scar she'd drawn over his collarbone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Compound clavicle fracture," he could hear it snapping even now, hear his own muffled sobs as they continued to rain blows down on him, "Brightlord Vishatham ordered the slaves I tried to escape with to beat me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He'd tried so hard not to break that time. Didn't want to make the others feel any worse for what they were being made to do. Recovery had taken weeks, further complicated by additional beatings and the gruelling work of pulling the heavy plough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl sat by his head, careful to stay where he could see her as she carded incorporeal fingers through his hair. It helped a little. Not much. But not nothing, either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "It's alright Kaladin," she whispered, "You're safe, that happened a long time ago." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The scribe held up a fresh sketch - this one of the jagged patches of scraped scar tissue, each four to five inches wide, that covered his thighs, pale and lumpy against his smooth tan skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This one?" she asked, and Kaladin shuddered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I told Brightlord Lanodal that I wasn't a deserter," it had been a familiar routine, back then, to beg each new owner to listen to him, to help. Fruitless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He... tied my hands to the bottom of the cart…" Kaladin felt drunk, the horror of the memory pushing numb shivers across his skin, "He'd already loaded the rest of his new slaves in, and he dragged me back to his estate that way," It didn't sound like his own voice, "It took the whole evening." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He remembered lying, shaking with fever in the corner of the slaves quarters. Remembered how each subsequent beating split the freshly formed scabs. He remembered the feeling of trousers sticky with his own blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "These?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A series of small, circular scars that dappled his left shoulder. Courtesy of his second master's wife. They were a small household, with only a few slaves, all of whom served in a domestic capacity in the manor. Kaladin would often be tasked with helping serve at mealtimes, his remaining strength helpful in the physically demanding work of carrying dishes laden with food he could only dream of eating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Brightness Kavhidic thought it was funny to stab me with a fork at mealtimes," he said, the numbness swelling, trying its hardest to grow to accommodate the humiliation of the memory of standing there, blood soaking his shirt, "I think she might've just been bored." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You let a woman do this to you?" The scribe sounded shocked, but Kaladin wasn't completely sure. Maybe she was disgusted, or horrified. It was like he was looking at her through frosted glass, her features too indistinct to properly parse emotions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded though, and the shame grew, their spren tickling his arms where they lay beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Why?" The scribe asked. She wasn't drawing anymore, had set her sketchbook to the side.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He tried to find the words, but it was impossible. His tongue was like stone in his mouth, it was impossible to get out the feeling of being completely powerless, of knowing that the last man to speak up had been whipped so thoroughly that it would be more accurate to describe what had happened to him as </span>
  <em>
    <span>flaying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He'd only been  able to watch, frozen then, too. Resistance brought pain, and in that moment, the mere idea of </span>
  <em>
    <span>more pain</span>
  </em>
  <span> had locked him stiff in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He'd tended the man himself. Stole what time he could between laundry and scraping crem and cooking. Watched as, with each visit to the slave quarters with their leaking roof and their mould and their cremlings, more and more rotspren appeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "This one?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He didn't even see the sketch, wouldn't have been able to answer even if he had. He was back there, in that moment. His limbs were locked solid in place and he was watching a man die. A man he should've saved. A man he let get hurt in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Highmarshal?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He wanted to look away. Couldn't. He should've stood up to the lighteyed woman. That should've been him, dead in the filth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I don't find this particularly amusing, you had better start to cooperate or I'm going back to the queen," the scribe's voice was harsh, only it wasn't the scribe's voice, it was Brightness Khavidic, and if he didn't listen he'd be strung up and the flesh flayed from his back in strips of bloody stinking meat.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She reached to touch him, he flinched. Realised he was sat up on the table. The trembling was violent shaking now, teeth chattering, gasping for breath. The scribe pulled her hand to her chest with a gasp, as if she'd been stung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He felt dizzy, distant. His body thought it was dying, but he was watching it all from too far away to care. The scribe was yelling for help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Surgeons burst in. Three men, two pinning him down, one securing his arms by his sides, his wrists to the bed, thick ropes that chafed. He screamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> A sharp pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> And his mind went blank. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‐------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Adolin became increasingly worried as he realised Syl was leading him to the infirmary. Kaladin was a radiant, radiants didn get hurt, but here they were at the doors to the small building by the market.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "He's here?" he asked Syl, hesitant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Hurry Adolin," she said, fear evident in her voice, "Please." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded, burst in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The waiting room was abuzz with activity. Beyond the normal patients waiting to be seen, there was an atmosphere of urgency. Adolin swallowed down his own thrumming anxiety. He had to find Kaladin, whatever had happened to him must have been bad to get Syl this worried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He went to the front desk where a scribe was carefully organising her notes. When she saw his eyes, she set them aside and bowed her head, "Brightlord," she said, "Can I help you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin plastered on his most charming smile to cover his fear, "I do believe you can, miss-?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Namae, Brightlord," she said, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Pleasure to meet you, Namae," Adolin's heart hammered in his chest, but that was no excuse for bad manners, "Could you perhaps tell me where I could find Highmarshal Stormblessed?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Of course!" she glanced toward a slate board hung behind the desk, "Oh," she said, "It seems like the surgeons aren't allowing visitors right now." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Storms, he looked towards Syl. She still looked terrified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin kept up his smile, "I'm not sure if you recognise me, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> Highprince Adolin Kholin. Stormblessed is one of my father's men, and he will be very upset to hear that I was unable to attain a status report on him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Oh, err," the young woman looked even more flustered as she registered his hair and his uniform, "I suppose, your highness, we could make an exception. If you'd follow me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin  breathed a sigh of relief as she led him down a maze of corridors towards a small room. The hardest part of any endeavour was always the initial brush with bureaucracy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> All other thoughts disappeared when the scribe opened the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin hadn't thought it possible for the tall, muscular bridgeman to ever look small, but right now he did. He was tied, rope around his wrists, chest, and ankles to a metal surgeon's table. Unclothed but for his underwear, without even a blanket to account for the Urithiru chill. He stared, sightless, at the ceiling through half lidded eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Storms…" Adolin said hoarsely, frozen by the door, "Kal?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The other man didn't even realise he was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl flitted into the room past Adolin, going immediately to Kaladin's wrist. She tugged on the knot that kept it in place, little face straining to pull it free. It was useless though. She turned to Adolin, "Adolin please, help me get him free!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"O-of course, storms," he turned to the scribe, "Find me whoever's responsible for this, and…" he thought about what Jasnah or Shallan would do, "And bring me a copy of any records of his care." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She nodded, apparently frightened by his brusque tone. Adolin didn't have time for that though, his friend needed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He went to Kaladin's side looking at the knots. They were tight, too tight for him to deal with in his current state. Luckily, he had his knife on him, so he sawed at the ropes until they came free, not caring to preserve them. Whilst he cut, he addressed Syl, "Syl, go get one of the Windrunners - someone good enough with their lashings to help me get him out of here." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She nodded, disappearing off through the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin continued to saw at the ropes until all of them came free. Kaladin still didn't respond though, not even when Adolin gently shook his shoulder. Even after Kholinar, when he'd been deep in shock and dazed, he'd responded to questions when prompted. Adolin tried to pull him into a sitting position, but he was limp and heavy. Whatever they'd done to him, it was not natural. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Okay, new plan.  He'd have to wait until Syl got back to move him. He took off his own uniform coat, draping it over his friend, then looked for Kaladin's own uniform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin spotted it, neatly folded on a chair in the corner. He frowned. Kaladin would probably not appreciate someone dressing him whilst he was more or less unconscious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was at that moment that the scribe returned with the surgeon, a fact Adolin was made aware of by the very loud exclamation of "Ash's tits man! What're you doing!"  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin whipped around, "Are you responsible for this?" he gestured towards Kaladin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I am the head surgeon here," the man blustered, "Whoever you are, if you don't leave immediately, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>be calling the guard." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I am Highprince Adolin Kholin, I will be taking this man from here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And I'm the king of the Reshi Isles," the man said with an eyeroll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Storming </span>
  </em>
  <span>surgeons," Adolin hissed, then, held his hand out to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Six heartbeats this time. Fast ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The surgeon let out a shocked gasp at Maya's appearance, "Now do you believe me?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The surgeon's eyes were wide as he nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Good," Adolin said, "Now, fetch me blankets and a spanreed connected to the communications room," he paused, “and, err, a scribe as well, if you would.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>TW: Use of restraints in a psychiatric context against a character having a panic attack<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.</p><p>Summary: <br/>Chapter starts with Kaladin POV where he recounts some of his past experiences in slavery to a scribe who is making sketches of his scars. He recounts an incident where he was injured by a lighteyed woman, and the scribe makes an insensitive remark which triggers a particularly nasty panic attack/flashback. The scribe doesn't understand what's happening, and when she tries to touch him, he flinches. This causes her to shout for help, bringing in surgeons who physically restrain him and inject him with something that is presumably a sedative. </p><p>We switch to Adolin POV as he follows Syl to the infirmary. He talks the desk clerk into letting him see Kaladin by using his status as high prince, and finds Kaladin unresponsive and tied to a bed. He sends Syl to get help from a Windrunner to move him, and cuts away the restraints. He's interrupted by the head surgeon, and once again uses his status to get the man to back down from calling the guards. </p><p>-----------------------</p><p>Sorrynotsorry for that cliffhanger last chapter! This was going to be longer but that probably would've taken an extra day (I can do about 2k in a day, but not quite 3k yet - one day maybe!), so I figured I'd be nice and not leave you in suspense for *too* long :P </p><p>Also I apologise for the terrible randomly generated Alethi names lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Vigil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> After Adolin had managed to convince the surgeon to let him take Kaladin, he'd wrapped the man in the blankets and waited, pacing up and down, the records the scribe on the front desk had handed to him clutched firmly in hand. Kaladin lay on his side on the table still, Adolin had tried to move him, but his friend was tall and strong and wasn't conscious enough to hold still whilst someone helped him sit. Adolin tried very hard not to think about how Kaladin had ended up in such a state, nor </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl arrived quickly, thank the heralds, Teft and Sigzil in tow. Both of them were horrified by what they found. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Storming lighteyes," Teft snarled, the grizzled old man rushing immediately to Kaladin's side. He gently tapped the unconscious man's cheek, called out, "Kal?" nothing, "Kal lad, on Honour's own storming name, if you don't answer me…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still nothing. Adolin could hear the slight shake in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teft grabbed Kaladin's wrist feeling for a pulse, then leaned in close listening for breath. He then pulled back Kaladin's eyelids, checking for </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Adolin hadn't paid enough attention in his field medicine classes to understand. He did note the colour of Kaladin's eyes though - they'd faded back to brown. He mustn't have summoned Syl as a blade or spear in a while then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let out a breath of relief, turning to Adolin, "He's not dying at least, storming lad." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin let his eyes shut briefly, then snapped back to attention, "Alright," he said, "We- where'd the other one go?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Sig?" Teft said, "Think he said he was going to figure out proper what happened. Come on though, we should get Kal out of here." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin nodded in agreement, picking up the small stack of clothing from the chair, then bracing himself as Teft flew them away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> They took Kaladin to Adolin's quarters, laying him on a bed in their guest room. The records, read aloud by a belligerent Jasnah, had told them what sedative had been used, and fortunately it was one Teft was (perhaps a little too) familiar with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "He'll be alright soon enough," he'd explained, "Not even a real sedative, it just makes you sort of disconnect as opposed to knocking you out proper like. The comedown can be storming awful so you'll want to keep an eye on him, but it's safe enough." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> On the surface, Adolin claimed to want his friend somewhere he could watch him closely until he woke. Really though, Kaladin's last words had been rolling around in his head all week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm not some creature in a menagerie," </span>
  </em>
  <span>he'd said, and whilst Adolin didn't completely understand where he was coming from, the sentiment had been clear. Kaladin's privacy had been invaded already, and with him as vulnerable as he was now, Adolin didn't want to intrude on the man's space without asking permission. Most hadn't noticed, but Syl had managed an appreciative smile in his direction, and Adolin felt a little better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't understand," Jasnah frowned at the records Adolin had given her, "Not once has he become violent during one of our interviews, and violence </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be the only reason to sedate someone so heavily and apply physical restraints." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "He wasn't though…" Syl said. She sat, legs outstretched, on the pillow by Kaladin's head. Teft had been insistent about keeping him on his side until he came round, so that's how he was. She traced the shash brand on his forehead with a silvery finger, "He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that woman touched him even though I was shouting for her to leave him alone, and then he flinched, and, well," she hung her head, hair falling over her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She called for restraints." Adolin finished for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Storms," Jasnah muttered. She stood at the foot of the bed, face severe as she observed the scene before her. She didn't look angry, but Adolin knew her well enough to be able to tell when it was boiling up inside of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't understand it," Adolin said quietly, "I've seen Kal when he's having… a </span>
  <em>
    <span>moment</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you can tell he's terrified."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was then that Teft spoke up. He'd been looming in the corner, clearly uncomfortable around so many members of the royal family, but now he asked, "This woman Syl, was she a lighteyes?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl hesitated, then, "I think so…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "There's your answer then," he said to Adolin, with only minimal sarcasm, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Brightlord</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah frowned, "I highly doubt that, bridgeman. She's one of my personal scribes," she shook her head, determined, "No, there must be more to this story." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin watched as his cousin pulled herself upwards, straightening her posture and cocking her chin at a particularly royal angle. She was good at this, incredibly so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Teft scoffed, shaking his head, "Prod all you want Brightness," he said, "But in my experience, if it smells like shit it usually is, and either way you don't want to be putting that nice clean foot of yours in it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She scowled at him, "I didn't ask for your opinion, bridgeman." She turned to Adolin, "Cousin, will you keep watch whilst I'm away?"  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin nodded, too dumbstruck to do much else. How could this have </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let me know the </span>
  <em>
    <span>moment </span>
  </em>
  <span>he becomes cognizant enough to tell me what happened," she said sternly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another nod, and with that she left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teft pushed himself away from the wall, standing so that he was looking down on where Adolin sat in a chair by the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I need to let the men know that Kal's alright. Spren whipped up a storm when she came pelting through the barracks announcing he was hurt," Teft sounded fond, and Syl looked up from where she was diligently watching Kaladin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "It worked didn't it?" she stuck her nose up haughtily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Aye," Teft said, "It certainly did. Now you've got a hundred Windrunners all riled up with only Lopen standing between them and out and out mutiny." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl flushed a deeper blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I'll be half an hour at the most…" he paused to scratch his beard, brow furrowing, "Maybe longer in the likely event that storming Herdazien is the one that </span>
  <em>
    <span>starts </span>
  </em>
  <span>the rebellion." he shook his head, "You two'll be alright on your own with him?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Go on Teft," Syl said, "He's safe now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Right." the man said, "You'll get me if there's trouble?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She nodded, giving him a small smile. Teft seemed to take that as ample reassurance, and he begrudgingly left, leaving Adolin and Syl alone with the semi-conscious Kaladin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They sat for a long while in silence, Adolin tracking the steady rise and fall of Kaladin's chest whilst Syl murmured gentle reassurances, too quiet for Adolin to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to be up, moving, doing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fixing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But no. He was needed here. There'd be time for that later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> After a while, Syl spoke, "Thank you Adolin, if you hadn't come when you did…" she let her hand fall to her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," he said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt, "It all turned out fine in the end, didn't it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She pulled her knees up to her chest, leaning her head on them, "I told him he was safe," she whispered, "That he didn't need to panic, that the hurt was in the past." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin wasn't sure what to say to that. If Syl had been a human woman, he might've given her a hug, but she wasn't, so he couldn't. "I'm sorry Syl," he said simply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I should've realised that this would happen…" she carried on as if she hadn't heard him, "He's been pushing himself so hard to help the Queen, and it's not a small thing, remembering, it costs him. Every time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin stayed quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I tried what you said," she looked up at him now, eyes shimmering with pearlescent tears, "The just pretending that everything's normal. It didn't fix him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin looked back at Kaladin - the brands on his forehead, the scars creeping up over where the blankets had slipped below his shoulders. This man… this storming man had been through more in twenty years than most would in a lifetime, and that was just the things Adolin knew of it. And for what? Because he had the audacity to be born with both the capacity to care and the wrong coloured eyes?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not sure it's him that needs to be fixed," he said, his throat aching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl didn't say anything to that. Just ran her fingers through the loose strands of Kaladin's hair again, rhythmic, as they waited in silence for their friend to wake up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---------------------------- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Word spread quickly in Urithiru, especially when you used the communications hub to convey information through the tower, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> when Windrunners were involved. Which they often were. Because they had to stick their noses in more or less everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> And so, The Three heard that Kaladin was hurt long before Adolin managed to get the message to them for himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veil was in control when the news first reached them, very legally eavesdropping on a conversation in the war camps. She was setting up the groundwork for a larger undercover operation, one which she would likely end up having to see to completion for herself, but that she was sort of hoping she would be able to send one of her budding Lightweavers to take care of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It probably wouldn't happen like that, but a girl, or at least, a third of a girl, could dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> But then Pattern received word from another spren that something was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he told her, and then Radiant burst to the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan stirred worriedly in the back of their mind, but Veil went to her, leaving Radiant free to get them back home, fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She managed to find a Windrunner in good time to fly her back to the Oathgate - one of the ones who'd gone to Kholinar with them, Drehy. He was working with a group of squires, but when she told him what she'd heard, he immediately agreed to fly her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It felt like mere seconds later that she was rushing, top speed, to the door of her own quarters. A gaggle of Windrunners stood outside - far more than would typically comprise a guard compliment - and Radiant had little doubt there would be more within. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What happened?" She demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> One of them, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Skar</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shallan supplied, replied, "You'd best ask Teft - they're inside."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Thank you," Radiant said, then headed in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> As soon as she opened the door she heard shouting, and the body flinched. Shallan had been closer to the front than Radiant realised, but now she was retreating even further back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It's alright,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Radiant told her gently, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can handle this for us</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She felt Veil's presence warming in agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She quickly found the source of the argument - Dalinar Kholin and Adolin, squared up outside the door to the guest bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's a right way and a wrong way to go about things son - this was the wrong way."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You'd rather I left him there to rot?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I'd rather you hadn't thrown your weight around and intimidated half our surgeons and their scribes! Damnation Adolin, we're supposed to be better than that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Storms. Not this again. Each part of The Three cared deeply for Adolin in her own way, but Radiant was frustrated by the man's constant clashing with his father. She understood, of course she did, but weren't there more immediate things they should be concerned with? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Internally, Veil scolded her for her callousness, but Radiant pushed her aside and went to the pair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Adolin, Dalinar," she spoke clearly, but didn't raise her voice. Radiant didn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>to shout, people listened to her. The two of them stopped, turning to her almost immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Brightness Da-" Dalinar cut himself off upon seeing her blonde hair, "Radiant. I beg your forgiveness at the intrusion, but I'm sure you've heard of the grave events that occurred this morning."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I heard Highmarshal Kaladin was injured and brought here, nothing more," Radiant said, careful to remain diplomatic despite Veil's burning curiosity pressing forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "He was attacked." Adolin said, eyes narrowed at his father, anger spren, vivid and red, boiling over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There was an unfortunate incident," Dalinar spoke firmly, "Wherein chemical and physical restraints were used to subdue the Highmarshal during a pre-arranged meeting with one of Jasnah's scribes." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veil fluttered through, nervous, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is this our- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Radiant told her firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Of all of them, Veil was the one with the most misgivings about what had happened last week between them and Kaladin. Not as upset as Adolin, who'd been tearing himself to pieces trying to figure out what had gone wrong, but still guilt ridden. Both Shallan and Radiant had been uncomfortable at how close it felt to what happened to her in Kholinar, so had been careful in keeping her from the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You what? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not </span>
  </em>
  <span>now</span>
  <em>
    <span> Veil</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know about you father," Adolin's bitter tone brought their attention back to the outside, "But personally I would tend towards labeling 'drugging and tying somebody up against their will' as assault." </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something doesn't sound right about this… </span>
  </em>
  <span>the whiff of intrigue had brought Shallan back forward, her anxiety momentarily forgotten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her hair shifted to red, and Adolin gave her a smile as if to say 'welcome back love'. It felt like resting your feet by a heating fabrial after a long day. She took his hand. Gripped it tight to anchor herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I don't understand," she said, addressing them both, "I've been doing some reading about the treatment of issues such as these," she ignored the look Adolin gave her and continued, "Sedatives and restraints are to be used only the most severe of cases, where a patient is a risk to either themselves  or others. Kaladin…" she was about to say that didn't apply to him, but he'd told her about what he'd wanted to do whilst running bridges. She wouldn't put it past him to have made similar threats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, hair shifting once more to blonde, "We need to figure out what, exactly, happened. Is he conscious?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The surgeon we called in to examine him said he'll likely start to come out of full sedation within the hour," Adolin said, "But he'll be extremely disoriented for a good few hours, and probably not properly recovered until tomorrow." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What about stormlight?" Radiant asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "He's too sedated right now to take any in," Adolin replied, "We did try, we even had Renarin try regrowth but it didn't help."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Radiant furrowed her brow, brushing her hair behind her ears, "We should try again when he's more conscious." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good idea," Adolin agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For now though…" Radiant rubbed at her temples, Veil was trying to come forward, but she was never any good in situations like this, "For now, I'll conduct some investigations of my own." </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Writing from the POV of Shallan/Veil/Radiant is tough , but hopefully I managed to do them justice!  Thank you so much to everyone who's commented so far, it's really lovely to see that people are engaging with this fic, even if the last couple of chapters have trended towards being quite dark. By nature of the subject matter, this fic kind of has to be a little rough at times, so make sure you're looking after yourselves and stepping away if you need to!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Lessons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jasnah found the scribe, an older woman by the name of Calialah Evatam, quickly, or rather, Calialah found her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Your highness!" She called out as Jasnah was leaving her own rooms, which she had returned to to retrieve a spanreed and writing supplies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah stopped, her guards stopping just as abruptly with her, as she turned to address the woman, "Brightness Calialah," she said, "Just the woman I was looking for. Would you mind accompanying me? We need to talk."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> They made short time after that to the study just off the section where Jasnah had her own scholars and scribes, assisting her with the varied tasks of running both her research and her country. She didn't have quite the same level of skill for wrangling a staff as her mother did, but even Jasnah knew how to assign a task in the morning then come check on it in the evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Take a seat," Jasnah said, indicating a stiff backed wooden chair in front of the desk. Calialah adjusted her sleeve, pulling it lower over her safehand as she settled on the edge of the chair. This particular room was used almost exclusively for private discussions with staff, and had amassed a reputation accordingly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah walked, heels clicking against the rich, wood panelled floor as she moved to stand, silhouetted in the great window that spanned the entire height of the room, hands clasped behind her back. As with everything she did, it was deliberate, considered. She didn't even use this particular room for working in. She paused there a moment, then turned to face the scribe, resting her hands across the back of the chair behind the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "So," she said, "I need you to tell me exactly what happened today." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Calialah's face was washed in the window's pale grey light, blanching her skin a taupish beige. She watched Jasnah with sharp, ice green eyes. They shone with fear. Good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I didn't intend for it to-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "From the start, and without embellishments," Jasnah said, sharp. She could feel Ivory, sat in the loop of one of her earrings, no bigger than a speck of dust, humming in approval. Facts. Pure and honest and easier to understand than the burning worry that this might be her own fault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Calialah took a breath, then started again, "I met with the Highmarshal in the infirmary first thing this morning as agreed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Why meet at the infirmary?" Jasnah cut in. She scribed her own notes for this, not trusting anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "It provided a private space equipped for carrying out such examinations," Calialah explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What, exactly, do you mean by 'equipped'" Jasnah asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You know what I mean," Calialah said, soft, aggrieved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "No," Jasnah wasn't going to let the woman get to her, "I need you to answer the question."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calialah's face became carefully blank, "Very well. I was uncomfortable carrying out the interview without there being means nearby to… well, to assist should I run into difficulty." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You… assumed you </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>run into difficulty?" Jasnah's skin prickled. It felt as if they were dancing around </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Jasnah had no idea what. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Calialah sniffed, "You've heard what they say about him your highness," she said, "He's unstable. Constantly causing trouble with his betters. In fact, I heard he attacked one of his former masters, and that is what earned him that shash brand." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He is a Highmarshal in my uncle's army!" Jasnah felt a little ashamed at the volume she allowed her voice to rise to, but storms, "With everything we are trying to achieve here… how do you remain in such ignorance?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least Calialah had the good grace to appear offended, "Ignorance, your highness?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Slavery is an injustice, inflicted upon those most vulnerable in our society, putting them at the mercy of those too powerful to face consequences. These principles are the very foundations of the work we are trying to do with this project," Jasnah fought to keep her tone even. Calialah was new to working on this project, but she'd been at it long enough that she ought to understand by now, "These people are victims, survivors of incredible and undeserved cruelty. The Highmarshal himself was enslaved as a result of a Brightlord's betrayal, and his story is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>uncommon. They are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>the aggressors." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You cannot blame me for wanting to see to my own safety!" Calialah exclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Safety from </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>? No, don't answer that." Jasnah rubbed her temples, then, remembering she could, sucked in a little stormlight and sent it to ease the ache, "Continue on with the story please, Brightness." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Very well. After meeting, we went to a private room in the infirmary, where I asked him to remove his clothing and lie down whilst I prepared my drawing materials." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah interrupted again, "Lie down on the table where you planned to have him restrained if he 'caused trouble'."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes." Calialah said evenly, "After that, I began to make the series of sketches I was assigned."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Do you have them with you?" Jasnah asked, but Calialah had already begun to take a small stack of sheets from her satchel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here," she said, handing them over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah didn't look - not yet. Later, when she didn't have someone in she needed to not fall to pieces in front of. She set them aside, neat atop the varnished wood desk, “And then what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I was questioning him about an incident with the wife of one of his former owners - a Brightness Kavhidic, allegedly she assaulted him with a fork - when he began to grow agitated.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah was fairly certain she knew what Calialah meant by agitated, and it didn’t fit Jasnah’s definition of the word in the slightest, “Could you be more specific?” she asked, “That is a rather subjective term.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Calialah said, “He refused to answer any additional questions, began breathing as if he was enraged that I had dared to do so, and even his poor spren sounded terrified. I reached to lay a hand on his shoulder in the hopes that touch may help to calm him. It didn’t, and he jerked - a sudden and frightening motion, so I called for assistance from the nearby surgeons who knew what we were doing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a struggle for Jasnah to keep her voice even as she said, “The surgeons - did you instruct them to sedate and restrain the Highmarshall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She shook her head, and a little relief trickled into Jasnah’s chest, “Beforehand, I had told them I may need assistance. At the time of the incident, I merely called for help. I was… quite honestly a little taken aback that the methods they used were so extreme.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “This is what happens, Brightness, when we use our status recklessly.” Jasnah said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The oppressive silence of the tower, its old stone and unexplored pockets, swallowed up their conversation once more. Jasnah allowed her thoughts to drift - how much of this was her fault? How much the fault of the surgeons? Something was very, deeply wrong here, and she needed to know what the problem was before she could fix it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was Calialah that broke the silence, “Your highness?” she said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Will I lose my position over this?” she sounded very small at that moment, and Jasnah felt her heart break a little for the woman. She had come, originally, from the Kholin war camps. Her husband had been killed in the Battle of The Tower, one of thousands, leaving her with a young daughter to raise, dependent upon the kindness of neighbours to mind her whilst she struggled to support them both. The girl was a little older now, but not enough to be left alone. Calialah was one of many of Jasnah’s scribes who was dependent upon the childcare services Jasnah provided to her staff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Even now, if she tilted her head to look through the windows of the study at just the right angle, she could see Calialah’s daughter through the other window across the scribing room, dark ringlets bouncing as she was chased by another child across the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No.” Jasnah said,  “That would accomplish very little. Your role, however, will have to change. It would be inappropriate for me to allow you to continue working with the vulnerable individuals who are the subjects of this research.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Calialah nodded quickly, “Of course, your highness, I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It would be correct of me to say you are a skilled rhetorician?” Jasnah said after a moment's thought, thinking back to the work the woman had done previously on a set of reports.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I would like to think so, your Highness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah nodded to herself, “Well, as I’m sure you are aware, I have collected an incredible amount of data over the course of this project, but I do not have the time myself to collate it all into the format necessary to get the Highprinces to read it. I would like you to work with the team assigned to this task. Your understanding of this issue within our society has proved lacking, and I give you this duty in the hopes that reading the stories of these individuals, in their own words, will help you to gain some insight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Of course your Highness,” she said quietly, a few shame spren floating around her. “Thank you for this mercy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah nodded curtly, “I will also need you to write a formal letter of apology to the Highmarshall, which I will review, fully acknowledging the wrongs you have committed against his person and the steps you intend to take to correct them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes, your Highness.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You will also be suspended for the rest of this week, without pay, whilst your new supervisor works to facilitate the logistics of your transfer. I also expect you to undertake regular voluntary work with one of the many organisations set up around Urithiru that is working to assist former and current victims of slavery.” Jasnah said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Calialah nodded again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “This is not… </span>
  <em>
    <span>entirely</span>
  </em>
  <span> your fault,” Jasnah softened her voice a little, “But we must work to correct these sorts of things, and ensure they never happen again. I promise you, I will be doing my own fair share of introspection to correct this imbalance." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shortly after that, Calialah left the office, so Jasnah was alone with her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ivory hopped down from her earring, and Jasnah watched as he grew to full size, an expression of deep thought on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah studied him, and asked, "Do you think I did the right thing with her?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "This is more constructive than firing her, Jasnah." he replied after a moment, "This way, she will grow, as you have done." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah pulled back the wooden chair, sitting heavily, "I feel as if I must not have grown enough," she said, not looking at Ivory, "I didn't foresee something like this, yet when I arrange the facts as I knew them at the time in my mind, I cannot help but feel like I should have done." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was an oversight," Ivory agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, and now somebody is hurt, with my own ignorance to blame," she pulled the papers Calialah had left towards herself, staring at the images. They were not as skilful as those her ward would have produced, but it was perhaps unfair to expect the average person to be as skilled in the creative arts as a lightweaver. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My brother made similar mistakes," Jasnah said after a while, "And Stormblessed paid for those as well, among others." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is." Ivory said, "But Jasnah, Elhokar made his mistakes trying to do bad. You did not. You are trying to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Is it really good if it is others who must pay the price?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Good is a very human concept," Ivory supplied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I suppose it is…" Jasnah agreed, looking back to the papers, "I need to learn more, Ivory. To study. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I cannot fix problems I don't fully understand." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is," he sounded pleased at that. He always did when she brought up study.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "We will do better." Jasnah said, resolving to do just that.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Again I apologise for the terrible autogenerated Alethi names lol. This is the problem with Stormlight OCs 😅</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Recovery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Hallucinated body horror and gore in the first two parts. If you skip to the third section it should still make sense :) Lmk if you need a summary though.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Kaladin was dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd fallen down a hole in the centre of his own mind, and now he was dead and this was damnation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fused with teeth and the faces of dead friends chased him, and he ran except he wasn’t running he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>falling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, down, down, down a corridor with a light at the end. The light swelled until it engulfed him, and then it burned as he fell into an entire world of light where Tien was waiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tien with his face falling off. Tien with skin slipping from his bones. Tien a pile of bones on a bloody battlefield that fell to dust between Kaladin’s fingers, except it wasn’t dust, it was glass and it sliced his fingers on its way to the floor, turned them bloody and red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t his blood though, it was Elhokar’s. Elhokar who he failed to protect, Elhokar dead on the floor. Elhokar sitting up and grinning, laughing, louder and bigger and brighter until it was Kaladin’s ears that were bleeding and he was falling again, backwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He crashed through something warm. Something warm and wet and dripping. Bodies. He fell through them, and they screamed and smiled and grabbed at him with fingers like tendrils like rope that tied him in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In place while his master’s wife plunged her fork into his guts, slurped his intestines like noodles, blood staining her teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her teeth were a doorway and he was sucked through, spiralling, growing, shrinking, the world fell over itself and collapsed and grew anew. Endless. Damnation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He started to scream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> -------------------------- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It didn't last forever though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It lasted as long as it took him to realise he was lying down, the world spiraling before his eyes like a thousand cryptics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Pattern?" He called out, "Is that you? Where's Shallan? Am I dead?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Pattern hummed back at him, kept humming. Yes, that was a yes. He'd died. How had he died? He remembered a balcony, he remembered falling, he remembered Syl laughing and crying and dying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You're safe Kaladin, I promise you you're safe." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The cryptics surged, excited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Lies-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Lies-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Lies-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Lies-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Lies-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Someone held something to his face. It smelled like…</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Darkness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> ------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-torming woman, trying to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> A pounding head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-ore dazewater?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> A mouth like he’d tried to drink crem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “-like he’s waking up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin peeled open his eyes, careful, alert for cryptics and fused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He relaxed when there weren’t any, only Syl hovering inches from his face and Adolin and Teft behind her. What? He tried to remember, had he been… damnation. Storms. Dead he was dead he-</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s alright lad,” Teft approached him, and he couldn’t help the slight flinch. Teft stopped, outstretched hand falling to his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl backed away a little, coming to sit, cross legged, on the end of the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Not his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> What was </span>
  <em>
    <span>happening</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Kaladin?” Syl said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched her intently, waiting for her to dissolve into a screaming mound made entirely of mouths and eyeballs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He swallowed, dry mouth like he’d been sucking wood chips in the lumber yard, “Syl?” he couldn’t bring himself to do more than whisper, afraid of who might overhear, “Why are you here? I thought spren couldn’t die… you know- you know this is Damnation? You should leave before they get you, unless-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He eyed her carefully, eyed all of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He tried to sit, but a wave of dizziness and nausea overtook him, left him blinking back tears and shaking on his side for a full minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Storms,” Adolin’s voice, he held a pot up to Kaladin’s head. He took it, leaned over it for several long heartbeats until the nausea passed, leaving him gasping for air, the world shimmering faintly as he collapsed onto his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Take it easy, Bridgeboy,” Adolin said, or the fused wearing his face said, voice full of bluster and fake cheer, “You’ve had a bit of a rough time of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No worse than usual,” Teft muttered darkly, “Storms lad, can’t you go five minutes without the world ending?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin frowned, “It’s a desolation Teft, the world’s been ending for the past year.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Aye, s’pose you’ve got me there,” he scratched his beard, “How’re you feeling?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Not too bad seeing as I’m dead,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh stop being so dramatic Kal, you ain’t dead, storming surgeons just dosed you with Stormbud Juice.”  Teft said, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin blinked. Stormbud Juice. Of course. That… made a lot of sense, “So this isn’t damnation?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl let out a peel of too high laughter, “Sillybilly! Of course not! Well…” she made an exaggerated sniffing motion, “I suppose you could be forgiven for thinking that….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin closed his eyes. Stormbud Juice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Powerful sedative, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his surgeon’s mind supplied, </span>
  <em>
    <span>induces severe dissociative states, intense hallucinatory experiences, and passivity for six to twelve hours. Side effects include lasting psychosis, respiratory arrest, headaches. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> He breathed deeply. Not dead. Just… drugged. He peeled back his eyelids again, watched Syl as she crawled out of the window as a cremling. Six to twelve hours. Had she been here the entire time? Was she even capable of staying still that long? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kal?” Adolin’s voice. He turned to the other man, “We could really do with a proper answer to Teft’s question - how’re you feeling?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” he trailed off. He felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His hands were either too big or too small, his head was pounding, he couldn’t move without sending the world tipping over itself, “Like scraped up crem.” he grumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Clearly not so bad he can’t complain,” Teft put in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin wasn’t focused on that though, “Why… why was I drugged?” He tried to sit up again, abruptly stopped himself, “And where </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in me and Shallan’s guest bedroom,” Adolin supplied, “I wanted you somewhere we could keep an eye on you. As for the other thing…” he glanced very obviously at Teft, who returned his look with an unimpressed one of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The Queen,” Teft said, when it became clear Adolin wasn’t going to, “Said it’d be the best if we waited for a scribe to come take a statement with what you remember before telling you anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anxiety twinged in his gut, “Teft…” he said, “I… what happened to me?” He remembered his fourth slavemaster. He used to dose slaves who didn’t behave. If you wouldn’t behave on your own, then perhaps a little chemical assistance would prove useful. He never knew what happened to him in those long periods, out of his head and raving on the floor wherever he’d been left, “Please, I don’t- I don’t remember anything, nothing that Syl wouldn’t be able to tell you, I just need to know what happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teft looked doubtful, but Adolin just scowled, “Storm Jasnah.” he turned to Kaladin, didn’t touch him, just held his eyes, and Kaladin was eternally grateful, “You went to one of Jasnah’s scribes, do you remember that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin searched, he did, just about. He nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well it went poorly, and the woman misinterpreted your...  one of your moments as you potentially being dangerous-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin raised a hand to his head, didn’t even notice he’d done it until Adolin stopped talking and stared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bridgeboy. This wasn’t your fault, do you understand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin didn’t, but he nodded anyway.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin continued, “She called the surgeons. From what Syl’s told us, they held you down and injected you with that sedative. Then…” Adolin swallowed uncomfortably, “They tied you down and left you there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And… and after?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was fifteen minutes where you were alone whilst Syl went to go and get help. Since then Syl’s been here the entire time, along with either me or Teft. We didn’t let anything happen to you, I swear it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Upon…” what did high princes care about? “Upon your blade and plate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Upon my </span>
  <em>
    <span>life </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back into the pillows, “Thank you,” he said, “I… both of you, just… thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You don’t need to thank us lad,” Teft said, “Kelek’s breath, you’d have done the same for either of us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “This shouldn’t even have happened,” Adolin said darkly, “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusted </span>
  </em>
  <span>her-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jasnah! She </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’re enough of a self-sacrificial fool to not give a flying crem storm about your own safety, and that you’d do whatever she asked if you thought it would help someone.” Adolin clenched and unclenched his fists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin scowled, although the effect was lessened somewhat by his being unable to move without wanting to pass out and also fall over and also die, “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adolin - I can make my own decisions, I’m a storming third ideal radiant! Shardblade and everything!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re also a storming fool lad,” Teft cut in, “And more’s the point, you didn’t have any reason </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to trust this woman, not with Jasnah vouching for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin shook his head, sending stars across his vision, “This isn’t Jasnah’s fault, I…” he grit his teeth, “I should’ve realised it was going to be too much and left.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you should’ve,” Adolin said, “But I think we all know there’s not a chance in damnation that you’d have actually done that - Jasnah especially.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teft scoffed loudly, "This whole situation's a storming mess. You," he pointed at Kaladin, "need to remember you're not indestructible. Jasnah needs to start being even a little careful when she's interrogating people about horrors fit for damnation itself. That scribe should've known better. And those surgeons need storming spectacles if they can't tell the difference between a man attacking a woman and one in fear of his life, but-" Teft shot them both looks that could've dropped a man where he stood if they didn't know him, "there's no use playing the blame game when it's all over and done with. You need rest and something in your stomach if you want to start feeling better."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin grunted, "I need stormlight and I need to get back to work-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Like crem you do!" Adolin exclaimed, horrified, "Teft's right, you need actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>rest </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kal, even if it's for our sakes more than yours. You had us all worried almost as sick as you were." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin struggled to sit, eyes screwed shut, breathing through the tide of discomfort, "You don't understand, Sig will-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sigzil," Teft said, "Is down at the infirmary with that there Lightweaver and every member of our unit that can either read or carry things, looking for evidence that what happened to you is a pattern of abuse." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin slumped back against the headboard, "What?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What, you thought we were going to ignore this? You mess with one of us, you mess with the rest. 'Specially if the one is you Kal, you know that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Storms </span>
  </em>
  <span>he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I…" his eyes burned. He was too dehydrated to cry. Which was probably a good thing seeing as he was in front of both Teft </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adolin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both had the good grace to look away when a tear </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>manage to slip free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> And then Adolin clasped his shoulder, and Teft handed him a glass of orange wine, better than water, apparently the sugar helped. And when his hands shook too much to hold it without spilling it, Teft helped with that too, forcefully reminding Kaladin of all the times they'd done the same for him when the moss had gotten bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin left briefly, then returned with a tray - flatbread and thick salted lavis porridge as well as a selection of fruits. Nothing that would spill easy. The orange had helped with the shaking, so even though he had to take it slow to counteract the fact that his hands felt like they kept changing size, he could do it himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The food and the drink and the warmth of his friends' presence helped. A lot. Enough that he felt confident asking, "Do you have any Stormlight?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> They both glared at him, "You need </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kaladin!" Adolin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Apparently I've been doing nothing but sleeping!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Adolin said, firm, "What you've been doing is staring blankly at the wall, hallucinating, and occasionally screaming fit to scare the crem out of a highstorm." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shamespren fell about the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "C'mon Lad," Teft said gently, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Rest.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin looked away, he couldn't bare the kindness, not right now, "What if… what if I can't?"  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He didn't miss Adolin's stricken look at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Lad, I've slept through enough of your night terrors to have stopped being bothered by them a long while ago-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Teft addressed Adolin, "Did he tell you about that time he tried to sleepwalk out into a Highstorm?" Teft shook his head, "Ain't nothing we've not seen before." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to go back there Teft," his own voice sounded hoarse, "I can't." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kal," Adolin said, "You need </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>." He rested a hand on Kaladin's leg over the blankets, "We can't go with you, but I promise, we'll be here when you wake up." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin felt suddenly very foolish, "I don't need you to-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes you do, I know you do," Adolin smiled, "It's okay. We've got you, and we're not going to let anyone hurt you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It took several long moments but then, "Alright. Thank you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And then Kaladin slept.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HOW WOULD YOU LIKE SOME COMFORT WITH THAT HURT </p><p> Listen, this was going to devolve into a self indulgent sick fic again at some point. You should all just be impressed that I managed to stick it out with the serious face dissections of ethics, morality, and privilege as long as I did.</p><p> Also Teft was Kaladin's real dad all along and you cannot change my mind :'(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Patterns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> It was well into the night by the time The Three made it back to their quarters, minds buzzing. Veil fronted, making easy conversation with those they passed, leaving Radiant and Shallan to ponder their findings internally. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>There is a pattern here</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shallan, who'd done most of the actual record sorting, thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I just don't understand why. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you sure of that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Radiant prodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shallan was certain of it. As certain as she ever was about anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There were still guards at the door, three squires that none of them recognised, and the Herdazien bridgeman, at least, one of them. Radiant pushed her way to the front at the sight of him, businesslike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He grinned when he caught sight of her, "Alright chortana! How were things with the records?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Radiant gave him a stiff smile. He was, more than the others, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Radiant wasn't as prone to nerves as Shallan, but she liked things in their right place, and if Lopen was anything, it was rarely </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Honestly, she was genuinely surprised to have found the man with both his feet on the floor - as opposed to a ceiling, wall, or one time, the back of the large Horneater bridgeman. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Be careful, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shallan reminded her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell him anything and the whole tower will know within the hour.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> "We still have much work to do, but I believe we have made a great deal of progress in what little time we have spent so far," Radiant said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And did you find anything?" He asked, Radiant's attempt at being diplomatically elusive apparently going right over his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Patterns are beginning to make themselves known," she said, tight lipped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You should be careful gon, anymore secrets and you'll start forgetting where you put them!" he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan curled up a little smaller at that, and Radiant reassured her best she could. She was already tired, rest would be good for her. Radiant could take care of things for them for now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "How is Kaladin?" She asked, ignoring his remark, "Has he regained consciousness?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Oh for sure, the gancho woke up a few hours ago - according to Teft he was trying to go right back to work," he shook his head, and Radiant couldn't quite tell if he was more amused or worried, "Storming Alethi, anyways, your man and the sarge managed to get him to go back to sleep. Teft left to go see to the men, but Adolin's still in there with him." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Radiant nodded her thanks to the man, then proceeded inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found Adolin in the guest bedroom still, lounging in a plush armchair he must've had brought in, a folio open on the bed in front of him, paper borrowed from Shallan's sketchbook on his lap he leaned on a book as he drew, and Radiant hoped for </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>sake that it wasn't one Shallan was particularly attached to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> In the bed, Kaladin lay, much as he had that morning. His eyes were closed now as opposed to the eerie, half lidded expression he'd worn when Adolin had found him, and though his brow was wrinkled in apparent consternation, it was better than the emptiness that had stared back before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  "He looks better," she whispered, and Adolin jolted, looking up to where she stood behind him. The worry and stress had melted from his features momentarily at the sound of her voice, but they tightened back up when he saw the colour of her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt twinged within her, but before she could say anything, Adolin was setting his sketch aside, a big fake smile plastered on his face. She didn't like that smile of his, he didn't do it for Veil, whom he had immediately begun treating as a drinking buddy, but she seemed to unsettle him in a way she didn't know how to fix. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's just sleeping now," he said, voice about as quiet as it ever got, which wasn't very, "We managed to get him to eat something, but he's been out cold ever since." he watched Kaladin with a frown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And when he woke up?" she asked. Shallan, ever the researcher, had looked up the drug given to their friend almost  immediately upon finding out its name, and abruptly terrified all three of them with what she found out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin shrugged, morose, "Confused, frightened…" he trailed of, staring again, "Sometimes I forget how young he is. It was hard. Seeing him quite so vulnerable and knowing he probably wished I wasn't." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Will he be alright?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin nodded, "Teft says so. Some decent rest and it'll be like it never happened. What about you though, did you three find anything?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Radiant hesitated, Shallan tugging at her to be quiet. But no. Adolin needed to know this, it wasn't about just them, plus Radiant wanted his input on the matter, "Yes, actually. We did. A great deal."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She sat then, careful not to jostle their sleeping friend as she perched on the edge of the bed, "Adolin, you must promise me that this stays between us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Of course," he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Right," she took a deep breath, coaxing Shallan as far forward as she could. Radiant  had no head for figures, so she would appreciate the help, "We found a total of seventy eight instances of chemical being used in the infirmary over the three month period we investigated, and one hundred and eight uses of physical restraints." These numbers were not, in and of themselves shocking. The next part though… "Of those cases, there were but three lighteyed individuals."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin blinked, "Oh, so… we were right. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>bigger than just what happened to Kal." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All we know is that there was a pattern," Radiant said, Shallan close by as she said these words, "We don't have anything to compare it to, but it seems… odd." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What other explanation would there be, Radiant?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We need to investigate more," she insisted, calm but firm, even with Shallan bleeding into her tone, "We know very little about these individuals, or about how the infirmary handles aggressive behaviour in general-"  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She stopped. Adolin had a look on his face as if she'd just slapped him. It took a few moments for her to realise why. A few moments of that heartbroken stare before he said, "You think Kal provoked this?".</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Did she? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veil stepped smoothly forward, "Like Storms I do!" she said, but she knew she didn't speak for all three of them. For a moment, Veil let her anger at the injustice of it all flare, eyes falling on Kaladin, "We're gonna stop this Adolin, trust me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was getting used to their more abrupt switches, but Adolin still looked disoriented, "You agree, Veil? That this is targeting darkeyes?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She shrugged, "Everyone else treats you different when your eyes are dark, or if they </span>
  <em>
    <span>used </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be dark - makes storming sense surgeons'd be no different." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "They shouldn't be treating him like a darkeyes anymore though," Adolin muttered, almost to himself, "he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>one."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What, and the rest of us-" Veil stopped herself. It wasn't right, to claim that label, she realised now that she hadn't lived it, not in the way Kaladin had, not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this, </span>
  </em>
  <span>"The rest of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them </span>
  </em>
  <span>deserve to be treated like this?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "No, of course not…" he swallowed visibly, looking down at his friend, "There's a part of me that's trying to argue that </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>be the case," he said quietly, "Surely the darkeyes being more aggressive, more in need of sedation makes sense. It's the same part of me that was told lighteyes make for superior leaders and warriors. The same part that excused Sadaes's treatment of his bridgemen for so long."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That part is wrong, though," Veil said, words seeming to wound Radiant and Shallan, but she didn't care, "I have it too, Adolin, but people are people, however you cut it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He looked downcast, "What do you think it says about me Veil, that that's my first instinct?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think it says you're better than most to be able to recognise that first instinct for what it is - a steaming hot pile of chull dung"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His brow furrowed as they both elapsed into zþthe quiet of their own thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the wrong word.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>You can't just go making claims like that Veil, we don't have any evidence! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Radiant's presence was forceful and annoyed</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What, you think this is okay? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Veil retorted, directing their attention towards where Kaladin lay on the bed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you think </span>
  </em>
  <span>this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is in accordance with the words you're so fond of Radiant? What was it - strength before weakness? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Veil… </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shallan cut in, so quiet, so small. Veil wanted her to be safe, protected, that was her </span>
  <em>
    <span>job, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but sometimes looking away did more harm than good. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Open your eyes Shallan. We're safe now, we were born with the right coloured eyes, but most people aren't so lucky. You're a radiant- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> Veil could feel her shying away from that, but she didn't let her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, listen to me Shallan. You're </span>
  </em>
  <span>strong </span>
  <em>
    <span>now, you've power. You've a responsibility to see the truth of the world around you, your position within it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I do acknowledge it </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shallan put in, so quiet she was almost lost to the whirring of their own mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veil had tried not to be harsh, she did. Harshness never worked with Shallan, it forced her to hide, frightened, whether that was within herself or behind cutting remarks. She was worried she was being though, Shallan was going deeper, hiding. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Radiant had been quiet up until now, processing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As I see it Shallan, there are two conclusions we can reasonably draw from this experience. The first, the one I can feel the both of us leaning toward, is that our society is just if not fair. That the darkeyes are naturally more likely to be in need of rough treatment. That Kaladin must have done </span>
  </em>
  <span>something </span>
  <em>
    <span>to force their hand. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shallan spoke up after a long quiet, tremulous, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The other…. the other is that we lighteyes are perpetuating cruelty and abuse upon those undeserving of it. Because of their eye colour and nothing more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>All three of them watched then, Kaladin's chest rising and falling. Brow furrowed with whatever horrors lurked in his sleep. He had told Shallan, in the chasms, all that had happened to him. She had seen for herself the illustrations of broken and brutalised bodies in Jasnah's files. She had owned her own slaves, at one point. Pretended not to see the way they flinched away from a raised hand, how even the youngest among them could not stand to be touched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She remembered how bitter he had been. How angry. She had thought him hateful and told him as much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They had both grown since then. Were still growing. This man whom she had taken such immediate offence to had become one of her closest friends, one of the few she had told her darkest truths to. They had grown to admire each others' strength as much as they were aware of their weakness. Perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>because </span>
  </em>
  <span>they were aware of that weakness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She knew him to be kind, brave, and capable of care so powerful and all encompassing it tore him to pieces. He was, without a doubt, one of the best men she knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Yet someone else had looked to him, to the brands upon his head and the way his eyes had faded back to darkness, and seen only the potential for violence. Seen only something to be broken and drugged back into its place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> No wonder he had been angry and bitter when she first met him. If this was what softness earned him, perhaps it would've been safer for him to truly be all she'd accused him of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The same way Shallan felt that echo of old fear when she tried to hold a blade, it made sense that he would've felt the same whenever he saw pale eyes staring back at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She remembered telling him that it was foolish to distrust an entire class, to judge them without getting to know them. And it was after that encounter that he'd </span>
  <em>
    <span>become</span>
  </em>
  <span> more trusting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> That trust that allowed him to walk into a room full of those that would hurt him and be subjected once more to their abuse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hair was red, she realised, looking up to see Adolin watching her with concern. He took her hand and squeezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Are you alright, love?" he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She shook her head, "I fear I have made a terrible mistake Adolin," she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Not possible," he grinned, "You're too beautiful to do something so human." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "As much as I appreciate the flattery dear, this is something I must think on seriously." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled her close then, tugging her gently by the hand to settle atop his lap, wrapping his arms about her waist in that way of his that made her feel small and safe and warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, looking up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Later," she said, "Right now, I just want to sit and think and make sure nobody else hurts my friend."</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Phew, sorry about the wait on this one! The Three are hard to write, and also I got hit by a pretty intense migraine. Apparently it's hard to write when you're fairly sure half your face has been set on fire. Who would've thunk it? Also there's a chance future chapters may also be interrupted by annoying migraines - it's pretty unusual for me to just get one on its own, so giving a heads up now just in case!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Painting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span> The surgeon who'd visited first thing had deemed Kaladin steady enough on his feet to not be confined to bed anymore, which meant they were free to sit in Shallan and Adolin's parlour, much to Kaladin's relief. He hadn't been properly ill since his leg wound in the chasms, and the experience left him feeling off balance. He was grateful, to see the evidence that his friends cared for him, but it brought it's own form of terror. The one that had been slowly and surely mounting for as long as he could remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It built when Adolin </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>there when he woke with a scream in his throat and tears in his eyes. When his friend held him tight as he could until the shivers were warmed away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It built when he realised Shallan was there too, out cold, curled up in a tiny little ball in the end of the bed, hair shocking and bright against cream sheets, drooling a little in a way that would've resulted in endless mockery were Syl there to see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It built when he awoke to Teft, mixing surliness with concern in that way of his. Telling him once he was cleared for duty he could throw himself at as many fused as he liked, but until then he'd better go back to storming sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And now, sitting opposite Dalinar, it screamed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> No matter how strong he became, how much safety and security he managed to snatch from the jaws of power, he had still been born a darkeyes and branded a slave. He was still, at the end of the day, one lighteyed scribe's whim away from losing </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I want you to take the rest of the week, son," His attention snapped towards the large man opposite him. It had been difficult to focus before now on what he'd been saying - the last remnants of the drug still clung to his mind no matter how much stormlight he used, pitching the world every so often into that place where it all felt to far away to interact with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Sorry sir?" He asked, fear trilling within him, bright enough to burn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar's smile was understanding, paternal, </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrifying</span>
  </em>
  <span>, "I want you to take the rest of the week off, soldier, </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least." </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin stared, confused, "But the surgeon cleared me for duty Sir," he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine </span>
  </em>
  <span>now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I know," Dalinar said, voice never rising, an anchor, but one with metal that had been out too long in the sun and would happily burn flesh, "But you've been through a terrible ordeal, Kaladin. Even now you are obviously distracted. I want you to be confident when you're back in the field, both in your own abilities and those of your men to have your back." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>confident sir!" he protested, looking desperately for Syl. She wasn't there though, and whilst logically he knew she was just exhausted from focusing for so long on watching over him, it felt far too much like being trapped in a cell, Syl lost to him, convinced he would be left there to rot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Son, you're watching me like a caged axehound," Dalinar said softly, "You haven't looked at me like that in a very long time. You have suffered a terrible betrayal, and I want to you to rest."  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sham spren, "I've been through worse sir," he said, pretending they weren't there, "I assure you I'm perfectly capable of keeping up with my duties after 'terrible betrayal' as you put it. In fact, it's what caused you to hire me as the head of your guard in the first place."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dalinar pinched his nose, wearing an expression that made Kaladin suddenly very aware of each and every grey hair, "Son, when was the last time you had a day off?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin thought about it, "I suppose that would've been when I visited Hearthstone a month ago." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Reconnaissance missions don't count, son." Dalinar said, "And neither does recovering from injuries before you mention those few weeks after you and Brightness Davar fell into the chasms. An actual day off."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He searched, mentally skipping past the time he'd spent in Sadaes's camp, as well as the slave wagons - as idle as he'd been back then, it probably wasn't what Dalinar had meant, "I suppose…" he said eventually, "I started training under my father as a surgeon when I was eight, so…" he winced, "The day before I turned eight?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Son, you do realise our army has rules about how long you're allowed to work for? You're supposed to have at least a week's leave for every three months you serve." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin was very aware of this rule, "Sir," he said, indignant, "If you're saying I work my men too hard, I can assure you they all get that at a minimum, and more if they need it!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> That, apparently, was not the right thing to say at all, as Dalinar looked somehow even wearier. He set the small, floral teacup he had been drinking from down on the end table with a tired clack, "And yourself?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, "Leave makes me anxious Sir, I'd really rather not if it's all the same to you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You know very well that it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>all the same to me. One week's leave. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Paid. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>be checking." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes sir," Kaladin acquiesced, although he wasn't happy about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "This war is no race to capture a gemheart right by the warcamps soldier - it is closer to the long and tiring march we took to the centre of the planes themselves. I would have you with us for the duration, not set aside, used up after the first stretch," Dalinar had been grave as he spoke, capturing Kaladin's eyes in his gaze, but now he leaned back in his chair, "Believe it or not, I do remember what it is to be young and believe yourself invincible," his brow furrowed, eyes momentarily distant, "Although admittedly I was no radiant in my youth, believe me when I say you will lose more in the long run if you allow yourself to become consumed by your own forward momentum." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin looked away. The comparison irked him, although he wasn't sure why, "With all due respect, Sir," he said, "I have only ever done what has been asked of me, most recently by yourself." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Guilt washed over Dalinar's features, an increasingly familiar expression, "You're right," he said, "We have all asked much of you. Too much. But son," he paused, taking on a cautious tone, "I think it would be fair to say you perhaps ask too much of yourself as well." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dalinar was right. Kaladin knew Dalinar was right. But, "I don't have the luxury of slacking off, Sir," he hated the venom in his voice, but Dalinar was too close to the truth and it sparked an old, angry part of him, the heat of it pushing him like an old friend at his back. Not that Kaladin had any old friends, "Experience has taught me that any less and people end up dead." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It hadn't been meant to elicit pity from the king, but it did. And that was worse than the anger he'd been hoping for, "You need rest, soldier." Dalinar reiterated, getting to his feet, "Spend some time relaxing and thinking about something other than your responsibilities." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin didn't tell Dalinar that any memory he had of how to do such a thing had been burned away long ago, first by the sphere light under which his father had made him study until his eyes watered with exhaustion, and then by the anger and pain of grief. Relaxation was for lighteyes, ordinary people had to fight. But Dalinar would never understand that, so Kaladin just nodded curtly, told him "Yes, Sir, " and saluted him as he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin reappeared shortly after that. His friend had remained sequestered in the guest room, telling Kaladin rather firmly that it'd be better for all of them if he stayed out of the way whilst his father was there. Now though, he grinned broadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin's stomach dropped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Don't you go thinking I didn't hear that Bridgeboy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Adolin…" Kaladin warned, taking a step backwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Too late though, Adolin had already crossed the room and draped an arm across Kaladin's back, a glint in his eye that Kaladin  was decidedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>particularly fond of, "This week's going to be storming amazing!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---------------------------------- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> There were two types of sparring you could do when you were a Radiant. The first, the kind that Lopen called 'Why even bother with that boring old chull dung Gancho?' had a strict series of rules; no powers, no shards (living or dead), practice blades only, and spheres were left at the door. It was very useful if, for example, you had only ever used spears and needed to practice with a sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The second found Kaladin and Adolin facing off against each other, Adolin in full shard plate, Kaladin glowing bright enough to be seen from Kholinar, and Renarin on standby at the edge of the practice grounds, watching the pair of them through a gap in his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin knew Dalinar would disapprove. It was foolhardy and wasted Stormlight. Storms, Kaladin was reasonably sure that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>disapproved. But Dalinar </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>told him to relax, and really, what better way to do so?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Syl hovered between them,  grinning as she held up a tiny handkerchief made of Stormlight. She'd reappeared earlier, giving no word on where she'd been, but this was the first time he'd seen her smile since then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Opposite, Adolin settled into wind stance, a look of determination on his face.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Syl dropped the handkerchief, formed as a spear in Kaladin's hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They clashed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You must admit, I almost had you at the end there Bridgeboy!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>almost had Kaladin at the end there. Telling him this, however, would've led to several hours worth of debate, and Kaladin just wanted to sit in peace and drink his orange. Instead, he just gave a tired smile, "We're not exactly on even footing Adolin, give yourself </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>credit." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pfft," Adolin dramatically swept a lock of blonde and black hair from his face, "It's only because it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>that I didn't beat you outright - any other Radiant and I'd have still won." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Even Jasnah?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin smirked, "Didn't think so."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Syl, who up until that point had apparently been terrorising a bundle of beer spren - chasing the little ungainly clumps with a pretend shard blade - zipped over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Adolin!" She said, affecting panic. Kaladin rolled his eyes. He knew her too well by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin, unfortunately, didn't have to spend most of his time being teased by her, "Syl?!" he said, genuinely concerned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "There's something terribly wrong with Kaladin's face - whatever it is you're doing you have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> Kelek's breath, that expression of Adolin's was strongly indicating to Kaladin that he needed something </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> stronger than yellow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're right Syl!" Adolin said in mock horror, "I think- I think he's smiling!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll go fetch Renarin! It may yet not be too late for regrowth!" Syl flew around in frantic circles around the locked cage of spheres over the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin just groaned, slumping his head forward into his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not fobbing you off Bridgeboy," Adolin said, again, as that evening they went to meet Shallan, "It's just I need to go and exercise Gallant, and everytime someone says the word stable you look like you're about to pass out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Storm off," Kaladin grunted, definitely not feeling a rush of vertigo at just the thought of one of those…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>things. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> "See, you're doing it now!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----------------------------------- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "Veil wanted to just go and get very drunk when Adolin told us we needed to do something fun," Radiant explained as they walked through the gallery, "but she got outvoted thankfully."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin </span>
  <em>
    <span>probably </span>
  </em>
  <span>would've preferred going and getting very drunk with Veil to whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was, ostensibly, an exhibition intended to contrast the old way of life in Alethkar, with what was being built now in Urithiru. There was a split between two rooms intended to symbolise this - one held old artwork, much of it apparently on loan from Lighteyes private collections, and the other held what Shallan had described as 'a fascinating explosion of developing styles and creativity, representative of over a dozen emerging movements within Urithiru's burgeoning artistic community.' Jasnah probably would've liked it, had she not hated art on principle. Kaladin, decidedly, did not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least Syl seemed to be enjoying herself. The part of the exhibition they were in now was the 'new' half, and she was darting from painting to painting, copying the clothing of the people within or shapes she found interesting. It was, almost, worth coming here to see her having so much fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Almost.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span> "I dont understand - Shallan does better than this in just her sketchbook," he said, indicating a large painting that was less painting, more just 'bit of canvas someone attacked with lines of paint.' </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Radiant squinted at a square beside it with writing on, "It says here, that it's called meant to symbolise the mixing of ideas within Urithiru, and oh-" she raised a safehand to cover a small smile of recognition, "I think that's one of Navani's engineers."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She kept talking, but Kaladin's attention had wandered past her, falling on a painting that hung adjacent in the other room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She continued, oblivious, "Apparently the yellow is meant to symbolise - Kaladin?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The painting was, to the casual observer, not much to look at. A young woman sat, perched atop a wooden fence overlooking a field of big, sheltered rock buds. She had purest black hair and a deep green havah, safehand sleeve billowing in a painted breeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh!" Radiant sounded like she was coming from very, very far away, "I remember Brightness Khavadic telling me about this one. The girl was apparently one of their servants, the Brightlady thought she had the most beautiful hair- sorry, I must be boring you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin hugged his arms to his chest, his throat felt cold, he said, "Not- not a servant."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Radiant looked confused, "Sorry?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "She wasn't a servant, she can't have been," was his voice getting louder? "The Khavadic family didn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>servants Radiant, they only had slaves." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other shoe dropped then, he could see it on her face, "Oh no… they didn't…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "This one hung in the second drawing room, she used to entertain ladies in waiting in there. I tripped once, spilled something on the floor," he screwed his eyes shut, something sickly sweet smelling leaking into polished floorboards, "I remember staring at it whilst she had her husband whip me for their entertainment." he could still hear them laughing. He inhaled sharply, "Can we please leave?" he heard himself say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Oh storms," it was odd to hear Radiant swear, "Of course we can, come on."She took his elbow, and they left, emerging into the breakaway market. Kaladin leaned against the wall of the gallery, stared up at the sky, blinking away the after images. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel Radiant watching him. Ignored it. Swallowed down the rising horror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't believe…" Radiant, no, her hair had shifted to red, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shallan</span>
  </em>
  <span> shook her head, "Are you sure it was her? Brightness Khavadic is a… a very proper lighteyed Vorin woman."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He grit his teeth, anger swelled, "That I can believe," he managed, "Very Vorin of her to stab me with a fork because she knew I wouldn't be able to react." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well maybe if you weren't such a-!" she cut herself off, "No, I didn't mean- Storms, why is nothing ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>simple. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I just wanted to do something </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>for you!</span>
  <em>
    <span>" </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't deal with this. He pushed away from the wall, "I need… I need some space. Storms." The thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, being </span>
  <em>
    <span>here. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It sent shivers racing across his skin. How many of his other old masters were here? Would they lay claim to him again? To </span>
  <em>
    <span>Syl</span>
  </em>
  <span>? To his </span>
  <em>
    <span>men? </span>
  </em>
  <span>That thought made him suck in stormlight, sharp and abrupt. Gaz was here, he knew that much. He'd never personally owned Kaladin, but he'd provided abuse and punishment in lieu of those who did. And he served in Shallan's ring of spies. Had become radiant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Kaladin!" he heard Shallan yelling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> No. It was too late, he took to the skies. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter was meant to be fluffy and fun with a little introspection to round it out but then class conflict happened I apologise.</p><p> Anyway merry storming xmas if you celebrate it! And happy Friday if you don't!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Guidance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  It was Veil who made her way back to their suite that night, Shallan and Radiant both too confused and hurt by what had happened. Veil had sprung quickly into action of course, getting a message to the Windrunner barracks and receiving word back that Kaladin had made it back unscathed, just brooding, within hours. Now, she just had herselves to contend with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> And Adolin, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man was still up, waiting for her by the heating fabrial. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face when he caught sight of her hair. He was getting better at hiding it, but with Shallan becoming increasingly less fond of being at the front, Veil could see it beginning to wear on him. He was strong and compassionate of course, but not even he could be everything for all of them. It wasn't fair to expect it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Didn't stop her calling him on it though, "Oh, hello honey, how was your day?" she kicked off her slippers, Shallan's choice of 'appropriate gallery wear, Veil' that she'd had to reluctantly comply with, and unbuttoned her safehand sleeve. She pinched the fingertips of the glove she wore underneath (in case of emergencies requiring two hands, like picking locks or bar fights) and pulled it off as well, stowing it in her sleeve's pouch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She flopped sidewards onto the chair near Adolin, hooking her legs over the arm, and poking his cheek with a stocking-clad toe, "Why thank you for asking sweetums! My day was a bucket of steaming axe-hound piss, how about you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin batted away her toes and she swung round, resting them on the edge of the hearth. That felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Adolin then raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. He was the only man she knew that did that. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shallan see in him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Inside her, there was silence. She had expected </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought at least to get a rise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I am</span>
  <em>
    <span> not </span>
  </em>
  <span>calling you honey, Veil," Adolin said, unimpressed, but amused, good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She pulled her feet up, then, hugging them to her chest and resting her cheek on her knees, "That's a shame," she said, "Guess I'll just have to go back to that pretty barmaid…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook his head, bemused, "Alright Veil, you do that. In the meantime may I talk to my wife?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She scoffed, "You can storming try - I've spent the past hour trying to get her to at least come </span>
  <em>
    <span>near </span>
  </em>
  <span>the front, but she won't." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He frowned, "Have you tried drawing?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Didn't have Shallan's sketchbook," she said, it being </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>turn to raise the eyebrow this time, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>took it out of my satchel because he wanted to draw dresses for Syl."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You all agreed that I could!" he said, retrieving the book from by the side of the chair and handing it over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She winked, then, began to draw a very busty rendition of the aforementioned pretty barmaid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan jumped to the surface with a spluttering blush and an explosion of shame spren, "Veil! Storming woman," she blurted out aloud, "Stop wasting paper!" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I'll stop wasting paper when you stop hiding off me, and more importantly, him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> "Shallan," Adolin's smile was warm, inviting, and Shallan felt instantly guilty, "How did it go?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Oh storms, she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill </span>
  </em>
  <span>Veil. She pulled away from where Adolin tried to take her hand, "Not... well." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What happened?" Adolin probed, then his brow wrinkled, "You two didn't fight again did you? Shallan we were meant to be being </span>
  <em>
    <span>supportive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Kal's been through a lot recently-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I know that! I just-" she groaned, frustration spren blooming around her as she burried her fingers in her hair. Her voice was a desperate, small thing, "I feel like I can't do anything right anymore, we try to help, but then we overstep and suddenly everything is so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse</span>
  </em>
  <span>!" she took a hard, hicoughing breath, and oh, she was crying. That was inconvenient. How was she supposed to tell Adolin anything like this? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> But then he'd stood, gathering her in his arms, and the tears were staining his chest and it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like a release- </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Maybe you should try this with your other problems Shallan,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Veil, there, watching, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he cares for you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> No, not that, not yet. She wasn't ready. This first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin rubbed soothing circles into her back, and she felt herself calming. She remembered someone else doing this for her, once, but she pushed it away where it could no longer be reached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I... Adolin," she pulled away from his arms, but refused to meet his eyes, "Do you remember Brightness Khavadic?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She could feel him stilling, mind whirring, "Short woman, hair dyed but red and blonde both showing at the roots? We had tea with her and her husband, she wore the most incredibly elegant havah if I remember rightly." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Shallan's voice could barely climb higher than a whisper, "Her." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What about her?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You remember that exhibition I told you about? The past and future of Alethkar?" she felt him nod, and continued, "I took Kaladin - I thought he might find it uplifting, to see how things are changing. It's so hard for him to see it sometimes, but a couple of the artists displayed were even darkeyed, and, well, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do right by him." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's alright love," he gave her a brief, tight squeeze, "It sounds like it was a lovely thought."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  "Well, you remember that painting Brightness Khavadic had in her dining room? With the woman in it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin nodded, "I remember the brightlord mentioning a curator being interested in their private collections," he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes, so interested that they included it in the exhibit,and..." guilt surged anew at the memory, "Kaladin recognised it," Shallan said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin, as opposed to the horrified expression she had expected at this revelation, just looked a little confused, "It's a very fine piece," he said, and at any other time Shallan would've snorted at his attempt to pretend he understood art, "What's the problem?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Adolin," Shallan could not hide her frustration, "He recognised it from when he was… </span>
  <em>
    <span>you know</span>
  </em>
  <span>." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a second for it to click, horror crossing his features at the realisation, "Oh, storms, Shallan did we…?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She rubbed at her eyes, giving him a watery smile, "Yes," she said, words almost slipping away into the enormity of what she had just revealed to Adolin, "We're friends with someone who used to </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kaladin. And… and rather cruelly, from the sounds of it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "But the both of them always seemed so </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adolin said, "Cruelly? I couldn't imagine that from either of them… did you tell him we…?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes, it came out when I-" her voice cracked, shame spren surging with it, injecting self-directed derision into her words, "When I finished telling him all about what a kind and personable individual his former slave master was." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin winced, "Well," he said slowly, "that's… not </span>
  <em>
    <span>ideal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but, well, I just did the same thing, didn't I?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You did indeed dear," she said, not quite smiling. Not quite </span>
  <em>
    <span>able </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. She'd caught glimpses of Kaladin's scarred body, the haunted look he sometimes got, the burdens a life of hardship had left him with. However, as much as she had just last night prided herself in growing to understand not just his plight, but those of society at large, she had yet again proven herself naive and unable to properly think things through, "It's just like Veil on Kholinar all over again…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin squeezed her hand, "Is Kal alright? That must have been a shock for him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I asked Syl and she said he just needed space to cool off, I-" more guilt, would it ever end? "She said he doesn't hate me, that he knows that this is just how it is… but he can't see me right now, nor you, Adolin."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> This seemed to pain Adolin more than anything else, "I just want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span>," he said,  "But I don't, Shallan - perhaps you could shed some light?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Me?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You do the same thing - disappear off where I can't reach you when we </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>be talking."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, right, yes, she did do that. She was here for this though, determined to be. She would use every trick she had to stop herself slipping away, no matter how much she longed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You're doing well </span>
  </em>
  <span>Veil sent warmth through her, surprising Shallan, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keep going kid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> "I…" she shifted directions, tried to think about why she did what she did. It was obvious really, "Talking is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adolin." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "But it makes you feel better afterwards," Adolin said, "I know it can feel hard at the time, but I've never had a conversation I wasn't ultimately richer for."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shallan thought about all the times she'd had to insist she wasn't crazy to someone who had no understanding of her life or her experiences. All the people insistent on prying the most personal, most intimate details from her for no real purpose beyond their own amusement. How drained it left her, and how deep her resentment for them could fester. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She smiled at Adolin, then leaned over to peck him on the cheek, "I think that says more about you, love, than it does about the nature of conversation as a whole. "There can be…" she wasn't sure quite how to phrase it, but she powered on, "An exhaustion of sorts, when you need help but you find yourself instead in the position of educator, trying to justify and explain some of the deepest hurts. And to then run up against an insensitive comment, however spur of the moment and foolish, fueled by clear ignorance…" she winced, "I doubt he wants to risk it twice in one day." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin stopped, very clearly deep in thought, "Storms, that makes me feel awful, putting it like that. I always feel better after talking something through, but I suppose…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I suspect I have more similarity to Kaladin in this arena than you do dear," Shallan took his hand and squeezed. He squeezed back, an action that still made her nerves sing with joy, "But that's okay, we love you even if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> irredeemably extroverted."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "He must have a great deal of trust for Jasnah then," Adolin pondered, "he tells her all sorts." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Jasnah's worked incredibly hard to cultivate an understanding of these things," Shallan explained, shuddering a little at the memory lf the time Jasnah had made her collate the huge collection of notes she'd taken on interview technique and sensitivity, "And also he doesn't spend half his time sparring with Jasnah or drinking with her as he does you and I." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Do you think… do you think it might be an idea to ask Jasnah for help?" he said, "Clearly she has a better understanding of how to approach this subject than either of us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's… not actually a terrible idea," Shallan said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "I'm sorry," Jasnah stared at the couple sat in her study in mild disbelief, "You want </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>to assist in your quest to become more 'sensitive'?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She exchanged a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Wit, and he smirked at her, "Well, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>be a good show!" he said, cheerfully perching atop the back of a chair, feet resting on the seat. He was going to fall off or tip over. She could see it now. Storming man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin cleared his throat, "Well, you know, we seem to keep running into trouble whenever we try," he shrugged, uncharacteristically awkward, and Jasnah couldn't help but find a measure of amusement in her normally self assured cousin's discomfort, "Shallan said you'd been working on ways to have these sorts of conversations without upsetting people." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah looked at her ward disapprovingly, "Shallan you should know as well as any that there is a significant difference between a conversation intended to aid a friend and one intended to further the pursuit of scholarship." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I am well aware," Shallan put in, "but you must have </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> guidance on how to approach this topic?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah sighed, “I suppose…” a thought struck her, “Actually, I have been working on developing a set of guidelines after the… debacle the other day. I would be interested in getting your thoughts on them, and if you fed back to me after your,” she frowned, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Conversation</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the Highmarshal, that could actually be rather helpful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin frowned, looking to his wife, then back to Jasnah, “This isn’t going to be like your idea of ‘oh yes, let’s just use a scribe clearly lacking any form of training in what is an incredibly sensitive subject area’, is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You asked what I myself do in these situations,” Jasnah said, “The guidelines will merely be a summary of the steps I take to reduce the distress experienced by interview subjects when discussing upsetting or difficult events. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>aimed at gathering information,” she held up a hand, casting Adolin a dark look when he seemed about to protest, “But I would like to assume you’re both intelligent enough to be capable of discerning what does and doesn’t apply to your situation. This is all I can really offer, and need I remind you both that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>came to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> She surveyed them both. The guidelines as they stood were just a composite of what her own trial and error had taught her about this sort of work - the measures she ensured were in place and the steps she took to minimise the distress subjects experienced. There was also an appendix describing the potential distress responses that she had observed, and standardised ways to respond to them that </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> involve what amounted to kidnapping. She hadn't thought it would be necessary to include such a thing, but as usual, the light eyed populace had proven itself to be in need of frustratingly basic levels of instruction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She was still working on getting Dalinar to do more than 'trust the process', whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>meant. She had, however, managed to convince him to put more attention into reviewing standard procedure in the infirmary, helped in no small part by the continuing work of both Shallan and Wit's former apprentice.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had put her </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>project more or less on hold, with the exception of the specifications discussed with her mother. That, however, would likely take some time, and the work of preparing her guidelines was undoubtedly more pressing. Her cousin and ward, the former dressed in the most elaborately embroidered 'uniform' Jasnah had ever laid eyes on, the latter having the distinct characteristic of always at least considering saying the most offensive thing possible in any given situation, were perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>ideal </span>
  </em>
  <span>subjects for this sort of 'test-run'. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here," she retrieved her most recent draft from her desk drawer, "I would also like as detailed accounts as possible of the conversations you believe to have gone poorly, you as well Adolin - I know we talked about your falling out, but I would appreciate you refreshing my memory." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later, she saw the both of them out. Hopefully, what she'd given them would prove fruitful, even if the context did seem a little… odd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That was unusual," Wit spoke up behind her, and she turned to face him. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>balanced on the back of the chair, and she was not afraid to admit that it was making her increasingly anxious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She glared at him, "For storms sake get down from there Wit. You'll fall and crack your head open." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed aloud, but acquiesced, slipping to sit atop the chair cross-legged, "If only I were so fragile." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> A tiny little voice spoke up from his lapel, "Yes, if only!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He flicked at the spot the voice had come from as if he were flicking away a mote of dust, and Design flared her pulsating tendrils wide in response, "Hey! Flicking is mean!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Perfect treatment for you then, you vile creature." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah sighed, going to sit back at her desk as the pair continued to squabble. Usually, she could find it in herself to be amused if not endeared by their antics, but today she had far too much on her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Cryptic for your thoughts?" Wit said eventually, trying out yet another variation on that odd little phrase he was trying to adapt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasnah could only frown, "That one implies the Nahel bond is transitive in nature." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Hm, I suppose it does," he said, "Although that would perhaps not be the most terrible thing in the world." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jasnah gave a wan smile then went back to her papers, only to be interrupted by Wit's fingers gently touching her jaw, tilting her chin back to face him, "The question still stands dear." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She let her eyes slide shut, allowing the simple comfort of his touch to lull her worried mind back towards calm focus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled away after a moment, "The attitudes of the high princes towards the Freedom Act have not improved, Wit." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He cocked his head, "You were expecting them to?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"More like hoping," she said, "As foolish as that sounds." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You were hoping you would be able to permanently stop the interviews you have been conducting with Kaladin," he surmised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes," she said, "I… I feel as if I am doing something terrible to him. Not just recently. Ripping open wounds long since scabbed over, if not entirely healed. And he has already given so much for my family and our kingdom." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Wit took her hand, studying her carefully. It always felt strange, to be on the receiving end of such a look from him, as if he were peering into her very soul, "You put a stop to it, when it was clear he was overwhelmed by the intensity of the interviews."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And immediately sent him into an entirely different sort of terrible situation!" she pulled back, steepling both hands beneath her chin, "And the initial pause was only intended to be temporary - I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>his story, Wit. No other former slave is anywhere near as influential or well liked." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I think," he said, "It will be a matter of patience and care," he grinned at her glare, "Difficult, I know. But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>need to be more careful, because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>he won't be." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And will that be enough?" she couldn't keep the fear from her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Some stories are by their nature difficult to tell, and to listen to," he moved closer, coming to stand at her shoulder, draping his arms around her neck and pressing a kiss into her hairline, "They still need to be told, even if we must treat them with unusual amounts of care and gratitude afterwards. It hurts people to do battle, but still there are cases where it must be done. The trick is in discerning when."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I know you're fond of them, but stories are not blades, Wit, they cannot flay a man's flesh."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "No, only his soul," Wit said dryly, "You're a historian Jasnah - how many records exist only because someone put themselves at great risk to make them? How many lives have been saved by the knowing of those records?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Many…" she said softly, "A great many." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He merely nodded, and continued to watch her as she got back to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you again to all the people leaving comments and kudos! I really do appreciate it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Apologies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Hey, Kal!" Skar pounded on Kaladin's door, but Kaladin ignored him, "You in there?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He sat in the glum darkness of his room, alone but for the windspren that had been blown in through the open window. It smelled like strong disinfectant, he'd been cleaning a lot recently, and the smell was giving him a headache that no amount of stormlight would burn away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Kal!" more knocking. He knew Skar wouldn't barge in, it wasn't his way. He also wouldn't be mad at Kaladin for ignoring him - he'd leave soon, assuming the Kaladin had decided to take a nap or just couldn't hear him for whatever reason. Just another of his men who assumed Kaladin to be a better person than he really was. It was probably for the best, after all, no one would follow the man who, for the past three days, had been paralysed with dread at the mere </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought </span>
  </em>
  <span>of leaving the barracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Well, if you're in there," Skar yelled, "Me and Drehy were going to spar at the training ground, and you're free to join us!" Footsteps, and the man was gone. Kaladin let out a breath, then looked up to see Syl staring down at him disapprovingly, little arms folded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That was very rude Kaladin," she scolded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winced, picking himself back up off the floor. It had been a reflexive gesture - dropping to the floor to hide despite there being a door in the way. Born of childhood games of hide and seek with Tien, before they'd both gotten older, and Kaladin had become too busy with learning for games. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I know, Syl," he said, "I'm sorry." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "It isn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>you need to apologise to!" she protested, flying closer as he set about picking up the rag he'd been using to polish his desk, "That's the fourth person today you've ignored Kaladin, if you don't start answering the door, I'll have to go out there and explain to them all about how you're sad and lonely and what you really need is for them to barge in and give you a hug."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Almighty, Syl-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Why yes, I am, thank you for noticing!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He glared at her and she stuck out her tongue, "I'm not sad </span>
  <em>
    <span>or </span>
  </em>
  <span>lonely - I've just been busy cleaning,"  he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For four </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole days </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kaladin!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "There was a lot to do," he protested, gesturing to the, admittedly sparse, quarters around him. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been a lot to do though - whilst being forced into slavery and then immediately jumping into a life of working more sixteen hour days than not meant he didn't have a lot in the way of material possessions, what little he did have he hadn't had time to organise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The time off had given him the chance to crudely fashion some (admittedly lopsided) storage boxes for the innumerable papers he now had to deal with. After that, he'd meticulously scrubbed and dusted every surface, nook, and cranny. He was now onto the polishing stage of the process, deliberately ignoring the anxiety in his gut that bloomed at the thought of there being nothing left to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He began to polish, and Syl watched him for a moment, an expression of befudlement on her face, "I asked Chord you know," she said, "She told me cleaning </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>fun </span>
  <em>
    <span>or </span>
  </em>
  <span>restful, that's why rich Alethi make other people do it for them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yeah?" he continued to polish, ignoring the fact that she'd landed on the table in front of him. She shrieked happily as he pretended to chase her off with the rag, leaping into the air and doing a few loop-de-loops before coming to rest on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p><span> "You lied</span> <span>to me Kaladin!" </span></p><p>
  <span> He didn't pause his cleaning, "I was being sarcastic." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That's very rude of you," she said, "You should pay me more respect, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span>-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A tiny piece of divinity," he said, "I know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I think you should answer my question properly to repay me," She hovered before him, nose tilted upwards a little, an exaggerated version of an expression Kaladin had seen Shallan wear, "Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>humans put mess on things if you're just going to clean them up later?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin was too tired for this, "Go ask Pattern." He still hadn't forgotten the time he'd walked in on them arguing over whether clouds counted as Windrunners or not. Suffice to say they were very capable of keeping each other occupied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> But Syl wasn't to be dissuaded, and she hovered before him once more, "Kaladiiiiin," she complained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He gave her a flat look, shrugged, then said, "It's not deliberate Syl, things just… get messy." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She cocked her head, "Wouldn't they get less messy if you hung your uniform up instead of throwing it on the floor?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Now he paused, mainly for the purpose of properly glaring at her, "You've been talking to my mother again." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She harrumphed at that, flittering off to copy a beam of sunlight, blue and shining across a corner that the rays from the window never normally reached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin finished polishing his desk until the wood was shiny enough he could see his reflection in it. He grimaced at the sight, then set about rearranging the things he'd removed to clean it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Now that's done," Syl reappeared, making him jump a little, reflexively sucking in stormlight and making the sphere light overhead waver, "Can we go do something not boring?"  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Some things have to be done Syl," he explained, patient as he could muster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Unless those things happen to involve leaving your rooms?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I haven't needed to-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She cut him off by transforming into a replica of his laundry bag, currently full, and sat by his door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about taking it, then and there. Thought about picking it up, leaving this room, leaving their little corner of the tower to go to the huge pools where laundry was done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Thought about rounding a corner, a smirking face, eyes pale with malice, a feeling of choking impotence. His breath quickened, and he forced it to slow, using an exercise his father had taught him for surgery, when he still thought Kaladin capable of something better than killing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That doesn't need doing yet." He told Syl firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She groaned, becoming herself again, "Fine, you're being silly and won't leave your rooms, I get it. Could you at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>do something relaxing </span>
  <em>
    <span>in </span>
  </em>
  <span>them? You could get a scribe to read-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "No." He said, before she went any further. He didn't think he'd be able to handle scribes again for a good long while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  "Fine, what about just letting your friends in to say hello?" She continued, "They're worried, you know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I don't see why," he lied, moving on now to begin polishing the wooden arms of the scant few chairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Neither do I," Syl said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "There's nothing at all worrying about holeing yourself up in your room and refusing to see anyone after going through an objectively traumatic experience." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "They wouldn't be worried if you told them I'm fine," he pointed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Unlike you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm </span>
  </em>
  <span>not a liar!" She was annoyed enough at that that she flew off, apparently giving up on him. Good. Everyone would be much better off if more people followed her example.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Teft's glare was decidedly disapproving, and even with Veil at the front, dark hair tied back from her face, The Three couldn't help but squirm.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "If you want to talk to Kal," Teft was saying, "You'll have to try and get him to speak to you yourselves. I dunno what you said to him that's got him in such a mood, but he's refused to see any of us for any length of time ever since, well, y'know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Beside them, Adolin gave the old Windrunner a cordial smile, "Well, we appreciate your time, Teft. We'll try just that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man grunted, then stalked off back the way he'd come. Veil turned to Adolin, head cocked, "Well, that sounded not good." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Adolin watched Teft's retreating back, "I'd hoped Syl was perhaps downplaying Kal's willingness to see people in order to preserve </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>feelings, but it seems not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "If we're being honest, that was a dumb assumption to make," Veil pointed out, ignoring Shallan and Radiant's protestations, "Syl's not the type to spare feelings." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin ruffled his hair - somehow the strands still fell in a way that suggested he'd spent hours arranging them, "Come on then. Let's try and sort some of this out." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Which was how they found themselves some fifteen minutes later pounding on Kaladin's door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Is he definitely in there?" Adolin said, turning to The Three. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Pattern?" Veil said, casting around for her spren. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He appeared, moments later, vibrating uncomfortably, "I don't think they want to see us hmmm." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "But he's in there?" Veil asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Hmmmm, yes, the honour spren too. She chased me away with a broom stick." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Veil stepped up to the door at that, banging with a ferocity Adolin had been too dignified for, one that drew several stares from passing Windrunners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kal!" She yelled, "We know you're in there, stop making like it's a storming highstorm and come and talk to us!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> No reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Another knock, "Kal, if you don't answer I'm picking the lock!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin looked startled at that, so she blew him a kiss, got down on her knees-</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And was subsequently booted out by Radiant. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Radiant ignored Veil's protestations, getting to her feet and brushing off her trousers. She looked down at them with a frown.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I thought we'd agreed we were wearing a skirt today? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Storm off. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed Veil would be upset for a while, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Need I remind you that this is our friend, who we're trying to apologise to, as opposed to someone you're trying to strong arm? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Radiant delivered the reprimand harshly, before turning back to the door, "Don't worry Kaladin, we won't try anything like that, that was just Veil being… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Veil</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More silence, Adolin gave her a look, then, "C'mon Kal, we just want to see if you're okay, we're worried about you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Radiant knocked again, "Please Kaladin-" she paused when she heard distinctive angry stomps, then gave way to Shallan, who shot Adolin an impish grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both started at the sound of a key turning in a lock, and the door opened just a crack, revealing a deeply shadowed set of eyes. How did he manage to look exhausted even </span>
  <em>
    <span>during </span>
  </em>
  <span>his vacation? And what was that </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Antiseptic? It was like what they put on wounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Go away," Kaladin said grimly, moving to shut the door, but not before Adolin caught it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Not so fast Bridgeboy," he said, "The three of us…" he paused, glancing at Shallan, "Five? Of us need to talk. Desperately." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Was that fear in Kaladin's eyes? No, it couldn't be, "I don't want to talk." he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin shot Shallan a glance. Jasnah's instructions had </span>
  <em>
    <span>specifically </span>
  </em>
  <span>mentioned no pushing people to talk who didn't want to, and heralds knew Shallan was rarely keen on talking through her own personal issues, but, well. This wasn't a personal issue, it was a question of friendship, and Shallan had spent far too much time alone to tolerate losing a friend. Even if said friend was intolerably grumpy, had a tendency to occasionally lock himself in his room and not come out, and worst of all, was a member of perhaps the most irritating radiant order of all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Well don't talk," she implored, the pleading tone felt odd in her mouth, "but at least let me apologise. I…" why was this so </span>
  <em>
    <span>difficult? </span>
  </em>
  <span>"I made a mistake the other day." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, the door in Adolin's hand going slack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Not just the other day, either," she continued. Her heart hammered painfully at the admission, and she could feel both of her other parts trying to press forward, to give her an escape.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she told them firmly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I must do this myself if it's going to mean a single thing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin squeezed her hand, she squeezed back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I have consistently behaved in ways best described as arrogant, dismissive, and condescending. I have made assertions on topics about which my knowledge is either lacking, skewed, or completely absent. I have hurt you. Hurt others like you in all likelihood. And, well, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperate</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do better," she swallowed, it was easier, in truth, saying it all as opposed to letting the guilt stew, "I could just use a little guidance, if you're willing to trust me again." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was a long, painful silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan forced herself to sit in it, to not shy away from it, even though it hurt terribly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She could feel his eyes on her - a gaze Veil had once described as 'smouldering', but that Shallan was beginning to realise was just very, very sad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was easy, with eyes like that, to tell the exact moment he decided to give her another chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Alright," he opened the door, "Let's talk."</span>
</p><p>   </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So you might've noticed a chapter end point added - this is purely provisional at this point, and could go up or down, just wanted to give you an idea about where we're up to!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Heat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> Shallan shivered in the antiseptic chill that swept through Kaladin's room as they followed him inside. He locked the door behind them, then indicated the chairs by the heating fabrial - wooden panelling on the arms shone so bright Shallan could make out the faint reflection of the red of her hair. They sat, and he sat opposite, Syl  on his shoulder, something Shallan knew to be a very deliberate show of protectiveness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan didn't miss the way he watched them, as if he was expecting an attack at any moment. More guilt, a tide of it that swelled, threatening to drown her until she pushed it away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin was the first to break the frigid silence, "You wanted to talk." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shallan felt her breath catch as she exchanged a look with Adolin, "Yes," she said, "I made a mistake the other day," she caught a glimpse of Pattern, swirling in the dappled pattern of sun reflected through the row of empty glasses lined up on a shelf above the hearth, "I owe you an apology, Kaladin, and, well, we've both come to the realisation that we don't really know what we're doing when it comes to talking about… everything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everything?" He queried, and Shallan wasn't sure if he was being intentionally petulant or if he genuinely didn't understand her meaning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was Adolin who replied, sounding more strained than usual, "Shallan and I both grew up lighteyed Kal, you know better than most how naive that makes us when it comes to the problems ordinary people have to deal with." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shallan recognised the term 'ordinary people' as Jasnah's suggestion. Quiet acknowledgement that wealth and power made them the exception as opposed to the norm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We want to listen, to understand what you went through, what it is we're missing that leaves us floundering in ignorance," Shallan cut in quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You don't have to help us Kal," Adolin added, "But you're our friend and this is something that hurt you, and, well, we'd appreciate you letting us in." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin watched them both for a long time, brow furrowing deeper and deeper with every passing breath. Eventually, he spoke, "You're friends with Her." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Brightness Kavadic?" Shallan asked, although she needed no confirmation, "Not so much friends," she said, "business associates." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Both of you?" She didn't miss the plea in his  eye when he looked to Adolin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes," her husband said, voice tight and sinewy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin looked horribly defeated by that, a puppet with its strings cut. There was nothing worse Adolin could have said to him than that single word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Did you ever see them?" Kaladin asked, and if she hadn't known him so well she never would've noticed the way his voice shook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"See who?" she probed gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Her slaves." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan had. Men and women, better dressed than most slaves, and well fed. Most had tattoos on their heads now instead of brands - branded slaves didn't sell for as much anymore, someone had said. Open cruelty was officially frowned upon in polite society, as decreed by its most prolific gossips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adolin answered, hoarse, "Yes, we did." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "And what did you do about it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They both blinked at him, and Shallan said, uncertainly, "We… didn't do anything. Slavery is still legal in tower." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin nodded, exhaling slowly as he tugged hair that had escaped its tie back from his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Kal…" Adolin said, wavering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Do you still own slaves, Shallan?" Kaladin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I…" she swallowed, sweat beading her palms, "I'm not sure, Sabriel…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was anger then, directed at Shallan, "How do you not know if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>own people?" </span>
  </em>
  <span>he hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> A heavy blanket of nothing fell over her. Smothered the need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>run, get away, fight back</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It soothed those most dangerous of instincts, reminded her that calm acceptance, a smile and total supplication were much safer. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shallan… </span>
  </em>
  <span>Veil seemed worried, Shallan assured her she didn't need to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Radiant burst forth, simmering with heat and fire and </span>
  <em>
    <span>rage</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>get to speak to her like that!" Radiant was on her feet, could tell that her hair was whipping about her in a furor, like a baby axehound that tried to make itself bigger than it really was, a product of her lightweaved existence. Shallan might want to hide, but Radiant was more than okay with fighting back, with standing up for them. Keeping them safe was part of her job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Why?" Kaladin stood as well, the both of them leaving Adolin looking shocked, "Because I was born a lowly darkeyes? Because I should know my place?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "No, because you're scaring her!" Radiant was almost shouting, could feel the space in her hand where her shardblade would form if she needed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He didn't back down, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>She's </span>
  </em>
  <span>scared?," he scoffed, shook his head, false amusement failing to hide the riot of terror and anger that raged across his face, "You own slaves! You're apparently </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends </span>
  </em>
  <span>with people who used to own </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin spoke up at that, voice and expression filled with a deep, abiding grief, "We didn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kal… we're sorry…" he was on his feet as well, moved to put a hand on Kaladin's shoulder. Kaladin shrugged away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "How do you not see that that's the problem?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Adolin sounded lost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much </span>
  </em>
  <span>power, both of you, but what do you do with it? Nothing." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That's not fair," Radiant said, "We've been working incredibly hard to prove that there is a pattern of systematic abuse in the infirmary." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because it happened to me," Kaladin retorted, "Someone with a name and a face and eyes that sometimes glow the right colour. Nobody cared before that. Nobody even </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "We can't read minds," Radiant argued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You shouldn't need to! Adolin, you're a </span>
  <em>
    <span>highprince</span>
  </em>
  <span>, your father is the King of Urithiru! And Shallan, you're the head of an order of the Knights Radiant, not to mention </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> wife and the leader of a ring of Lightweaver spies - you have eyes </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>," he took a deep, ragged breath, wisps of stormlight evaporating from his skin, "There's a point," he said, quieter now, the exhausted calm that followed a raging storm, "Where it stops being ignorance and becomes negligence, where it stops being not knowing and starts to become not caring." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He sat back down, whole body seeming to sag with the motion. After several long moments, they both followed, Radiant backing away from the front  and allowing Shallan, somewhat dazed, to come back. Adolin squeezed her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Radiant? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She asked internally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don't remember… what just happened? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We had a… disagreement with the bridgeman. He was probably right. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan groaned internally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>picking a fight was decidedly not on Jasnah's list of things to say.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He frightened you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can't have been that frightened, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shallan pointed out, </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I was genuinely frightened, Veil would have come out. You…</span>
  </em>
  <span> she swallowed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Radiant you're the part that we become when we want to be powerful, not when we're scared. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She looked at Kaladin, slumped, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever happened, I think it may have gone better if we weren't trying to throw our weight around. I've dealt with enough bullies to know I don't want to become one. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> She could feel Radiant's derision, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don't worry, he more than stood up for himself. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever Radiant said,” Shallan said, “I apologise. We’re trying very hard to get better at this, but she’s protective.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Syl was conspicuously absent, which probably meant she’d stopped allowing them to see her so that she could talk to him privately. This was more or less confirmed when she caught him casting an irritated look to the side and muttering under his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  She quirked an eyebrow, and heard Adolin catch his breath in anticipation. Honestly, that man had no faith in her ability to not cause trouble, “You know, it’s rude to talk to your spren whilst in polite company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin gave her a long suffering look, “I wouldn’t call you ‘polite company’, Davar.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I was talking about Adolin, poor thing looks like he got caught out in a high storm,” she leaned over to kiss Adolin’s cheek. She wasn’t lying, he looked rather the worse for wear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “We would know,” Kaladin said, cracking perhaps the first smile she’d seen on him in weeks. Shallan relaxed. Smiles and jokes and gently ribbing her husband were things she knew how to deal with. More than trying to catch up with what her alternate personalities had done to offend her friends at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I am sorry Kaladin,” she said, quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She shook his head, smile falling again, so quick it was as if it had never been there at all, “No, I… I’m sorry Shallan, Radiant too if she can… hear me? I came at this all wrong, I spoke with anger, that never ends well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Radiant, sounding regretful, told Shallan, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell him I can, and, well, tell him he was right. We haven’t been doing as much as we should. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“She says you don’t need to apologise,” Shallan said, because she didn’t think her pride could take admitting fault this many times in a row, and there wasn’t a chance she was doing Radiant’s share of the work for her, “And I think you’ve a right to be angry. I’m starting to realise, it’s not just about class for you, is it? It’s, well, it’s life and death, and we’ve a tendency to forget that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He smiled bitterly, “That’s my point though - class </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>life and death, just not for lighteyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “It’s a luxury.” Adolin surprised the both of them by speaking up. He looked distant, “Not having to think about it. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>been thinking though,” he turned his attention sharply to Kaladin, there was a desperation there that Shallan wasn’t used to seeing from him, “I’ve been so </span>
  <em>
    <span>blind</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I ignored so much because it was inconvenient, because it gave credence to all the things my father was telling me that I didn’t want to hear. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw </span>
  </em>
  <span>what Sadaes was doing to you and the other bridgemen Kal, but I didn’t do anything about him until he hurt people I knew, I didn’t care. And then when you came to the camps, I didn’t see people who’d been through something unimaginable, who were trying to keep us safe, I saw men who just wanted to get in my way, who were secretive and vicious and there to be mocked. And, well, storms, I still call you Bridgeboy Kal!” he laughed bitterly, “Every time you hear that, it must be like I’m rubbing it in your face, and I’m only just now realising that. You must think I’m a monster.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shallan could see tears at the corners of his eyes, she couldn’t go to him though. She shot Kaladin, who was staring, flabbergasted at Adolin, a glare that distinctly told him he’d better not just leave him like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t mind the nickname Adolin,” he said softly, “I… I actually like it. It feels,” he shrugged, averting his gaze as a blush tinged his ears. Storming men and their storming repressed affection, “Familiar. Reminds me that we’re friends. I…” he swallowed, and it looked like he was in physical pain, “I never had a lot of friends. I appreciate that you’re there for me, that you’ve done so </span>
  <em>
    <span>storming </span>
  </em>
  <span>much for me Adolin,” Kaladin seemed to have forgotten that his hair was tied back because he was attempting to run anxious fingers through it, “The things you’ve done for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>have always been more than enough. More than I deserve. I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He looked away then, and Shallan could see that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was crying too. She stayed quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I still feel like an interloper,” he said, “Like one day you or Shallan, or even Jasnah or Navani or any one of the thousands of people born with more power than me are just going to pull the rug out from under my feet again. One word, and I’ll be back in a slave cart, or back under a bridge, or back on the end of some lighteyes’ whip or fists or-” he took a deep breath, “Sometimes,” he said, “It seems like you both live in a different world. Because you do. Neither of you knows what it’s like for it to be legal for someone to beat you so badly you can’t stand, or for them to murder every single friend you have for daring to speak up and disobey. What it’s like to watch…” his breath hitched hard, shoulders shaking silently as he struggled for breath, “to watch your fifteen year old brother </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and for there to be no way to… to….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She went to him then, ignoring Adolin’s shocked look. Went to him and sat on the arm of the chair, held him in as tight a hug as she could manage with her unfortunately puny arm. He shook, the front of her dress growing hot and then uncomfortably cool with tears. But then Adolin joined them, and somehow in a way that was probably Adolin’s fault, all three ended up in a pile on the floor, Kaladin sandwiched between the two of them, and Shallan could feel herself crying as well, because this seemed to be a bandwagon that wouldn’t let you </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>jump on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed like that for a long time, and Shallan listened to hitching sobs shift to scraping breaths, and then, finally, to something easier. Something free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was still something left though. Something she needed to say.  She extricated herself from the tangle of disgustingly long Alethi limbs and sat, cross-legged, opposite both of them, channelling Radiant as she fixed both the men in front of her with a very strict look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> First, she turned her attention to Adolin, “You,” she said firmly, putting a finger against his chest. Not a sexy finger. A ‘you listen to me Adolin Kholin’ finger, “Are one of the kindest, most empathetic men I have ever met. And if I hear you talking like that about my husband again I will let Radiant </span>
  <em>
    <span>end </span>
  </em>
  <span>you Adolin, do you hear?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded quickly, but already she was turning her gaze on Kaladin. And storms, if that look of fear didn’t break her heart all over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And you....” she swallowed thickly, dabbing at her already red eyes with the rough sleeve of her havah, “However you could </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>think that we’d let anything like that happen to you again…” she had to stop, breathe through the burning in her throat. Adolin took that opportunity to jump in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Kal,” he said, “You’re safe, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you’re safe. And I know that look, I know you don’t believe me. And I know… I know what you learned the other day has shaken what little trust you had for us badly, but we will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>let her hurt you again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And when Jasnah gets her law passed,” Shallan found herself recovered enough to talk again, “She won’t be able to hurt anyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>else </span>
  </em>
  <span>either. And…” she glanced at Adolin, and from the look on his face she already knew that he would agree with her, “Both of us are going to start working on this just as hard as you and Jasnah have. Because this is important. Not just to you, or us, but to everyone.” she glanced at Adolin, saw him nodding in agreement. She dabbed at her eyes again, before adding, “And if either of you mentions I cried, I will absolutely not be afraid to stoop to using lightweaving to get back at you, and you do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>want that.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>LAST CHAPTER OF 2020!!! STORMS YES I GOT IT WRITTEN IN TIME TO SEE OUT THE HELL YEAR!!!! </p><p>Also the Shakadolin is still intended to be completely platonic lol, sandwich hugs from your couple friends just happen to be the best kinds of hugs, sorry I don't make the rules.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Forward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> Adolin did not normally like working with Veil. He'd gladly share a drink with her, and he appreciated that she cared about Shallan, but if he was reckless, she was what reckless became when it was given access to its parents' accounts. She did, however, have her uses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And you're sure Shallan is alright with this?" he asked her, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the background chatter of the winehouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adolin, storms, if she wasn't you'd be getting lectured by Radiant now instead of talking to me," she stretched wide, then took a sip of her violet wine. She was already two cups deep, and Adolin knew he'd have to get to the point soon if he wanted to have anything approaching a productive conversation with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's see what you've got then," he said, eying the folio clasped in her gloved safe hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  She rolled her eyes, setting her cup down, "Storms, at least ask me to dinner first."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "We're literally sitting in a wine bar, and technically married," Maybe, it was difficult to define what his relationship to Shallan's other personalities was, but they were starting to figure it out, "Most people would call this a date." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Veil wrinkled her nose at that, "Ew, fat chance. Shallan can keep you to herself, ta very much." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You're the one who brought it up!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Veil scoffed, then, with a nimble flick of her wrist opened the folio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin blinked at it dumbly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know, all of this would be much simpler if you could read like your father." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just tell me what it says." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She rolled her eyes, then indicated the page, "I didn't find much at first. Just what you'd expect with a piece of work like her. They beat their slaves, but we know that already and it's not illegal or even unusual. Same for all the deaths." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Adolin's stomach turned at the reminder, and he wondered again how many people he would call his friends had similar opinions. He'd thought his father naive for trusting evil men so easily, but when cruelty was so ingrained within society, how did you even tell the real monsters from those just going along with the crowd? Was there even a difference? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He reached for Maya, not in a physical way, but in that strange, ethereal awareness of her presence that had been growing since Shadesmar. Just the knowledge that she was there was comforting, as strange as it probably would seem if he tried to explain it to anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Veil continued, "Things started to get a bit more interesting when I pushed my networks harder. The Brightlord was seen leaving several times in the company of this woman," she turned the page, pointing to a sketch of an Alethi woman with some of the most intricate braids Adolin had ever seen. It was Shallan's work, he'd recognise her drawings even if they were lost among a pile of identical pieces, and it eased the knot of tension in his chest a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "A mistress?" he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She shook her head, a grin forming, "We thought so at first, but it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much better than that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was hesitant to believe her at first, but when she finished her tale, Adolin couldn't help but agree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was going to take the people who'd hurt his friend down, hard, and with this evidence, there wasn't a thing anyone would be able to do to stop him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----‐-------------‐</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "I don't understand what the storming problem is,"  Kaladin sat, fingers steepled, glaring at the door to his rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "It's alright," Shallan said, "I'm sure Jasnah won't mind being made to wait for you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He groaned, dropping his head into his hands as Shallan snorted at him, "Y'know," he peeked up at her through his fingers, "I thought you said you were going to try and be nicer." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "To be fair," she said, "This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice for me, at least where you're concerned." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He scowled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It'd been two days since their… whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>had been, and true to their word, Shallan and Adolin had both jumped headfirst into helping Jasnah. Shallan was, when granted time away from her other duties, helping Jasnah directly, serving in full capacity as her ward in a way she hadn't for a while. Adolin had, after a brief initial struggle in finding a way to help, taken to pushing things forward in the political front. Already he had garnered the support of several minor city lords, who in turn allowed access to their own resources and connections. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin hadn't realised that it could be so helpful to approach things from this more subtle and amicable angle - he supposed he had spent too much time watching Dalinar and Jasnah navigate politics, both of whom seemed to prefer treating their power as a sledgehammer as opposed to Adolin's chisel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Come on," Shallan came to crouch beside him, "Jasnah said she had something to show us." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kaladin grunted in reply, attention still fixed on the door. He could feel Shallan watching him, and felt a million times worse for how weak this whole situation made him feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You know…" she began after several long seconds more, "I'm sure Jasnah wouldn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>mind if you can't do this just yet." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "No," he said firmly, getting to his feet, "I need to get it out of the way. How am I supposed to lead my men if I can't even…" he broke off, it was still too painful to admit that much vulnerability aloud. He was meant to be getting back to work in just three more days - how was he supposed to lead an order of the Knights Radiant if he couldn't even face the possibility of running into some ghost from his past? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright," Shallan took it in stride, "Let's talk this through rationally." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>it's irrational-" Kaladin protested, but stopped short when she gave him a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What, exactly, are you scared is going to happen when you leave here?" she asked, not accusatory, but with genuine curiosity and concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He couldn't meet her eyes, it was too foolish to say out loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Kaladin?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him several tries, clenching and unclenching his fists, testing Syl's presence in his mind, checking she would still be there when he needed her, "What if I run into </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shallan?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What if you do?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She repeated the question, "What happens if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>run into her Kaladin?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I don't know," his voice cracked, like painful splinters lodged in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Think about it," She said, not unkindly, "What's the worst possible result?"  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kaladin’s thoughts immediately began to spiral - what if she found a way to take him as a slave again? What if she saw his men and targeted </span>
  <em>
    <span>them? </span>
  </em>
  <span>What if she used her power to target him, turning her political allies on him and his order the same way she had gotten her husband and other slaves to carry out ‘punishments’ on her behalf?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Kaladin </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Shallan reminded him, and he did, counting slow, measured breaths, “Talk to me, what’s the worst thing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s powerful Shallan,” his voice sounded very far away, “she’s a light eyes - she could see what I have here, what I’ve built, and take it from me, send me right back to where I started,” he sagged against a wall, suddenly feeling very weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kaladin,” Shallan said, coming close, but obviously being careful to leave him space, “Let’s think about this. Who’s the most powerful person in this tower?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Dalinar,” he said immediately, not even having to think about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Do you really think Dalinar would let something like that happen? Kaladin he thinks the world of you - I know as much because Adolin won’t stop complaining about how,” she dropped her voice to a low register, affecting a parodic attempt at Adolin’s upper class Alethi diction, “ ‘if Kaladin’s so great why doesn’t father just take </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>as a son instead?’” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Even Kaladin had to smile at that, but his gut still churned, “I don't think that'd make much difference if it came down to it," he knew it was stupid to talk like that, that if it came down to it, he could take his men and fly away, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong </span>
  </em>
  <span>now. But part of him still froze. Still got stuck, watching the men and women he'd come to care about die one by one, "I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shallan." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He saw the look in her eyes - not pity, Shallan didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>pity thank the Stormfather, but concern, and he immediately felt awful. He was supposed to be strong, brave, a decorated officer and leader of the most versatile and powerful wing of Dalinar’s army. Now he felt like a child, clinging to his mother’s skirts for fear of being seen by bigger, stronger adults.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook himself, “You should go back to Jasnah, Shallan, tell her… tell her that I need to reschedule. Thank you for your help - I appreciate it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> A brief moment, then her eyes flashed with rage, "Kaladin Stormblessed," she said, voice sharp, "I did not come all the way down here from Jasnah's study just to watch you give up at the first hurdle and send me away." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "That's exactly what you did," he said flatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She stuck her nose up hautily, "Fine. But I'll have you know that seeing as I'd intended to spend time in your presence anyway, I will be spending the next two hours being perfectly bothersome." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I know what you're doing Shallan, it won't work?" he said, watching as she invited herself to sit in a chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She ignored him, loudly asking, "So Syl, has he asked Lynn out yet?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Storming woman. Storming spren. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even a stupid storming door and the certainty that he was about to drop dead could make him sit through this. Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You'd better not wander off on me," he said, because as much as he wanted to be strong, he couldn't do this on his own. Not yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wouldn't dream of it," she grinned and jumped to her feet, casually taking his arm as they walked out to face the world together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The evening soiree was one of many Brightness Kavhidic had attended in recent months. Her and her husband had never gone to the warcamps, being far too busy on their estate, but they had been more or less forced to journey to Urithiru because of those foul parsh creatures. The tower was cold and labyrinthine, inhospitable for human life. There were times Brightness Khavadic felt as if it were deliberately trying to unseat her, like how a body burned with fever to purge itself of rot spren. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She'd wrapped herself in Shin furs though, warmer than any Alethi textile, and headed down to the soiree just to spite the harsh environment of the tower. So what if it didn't want her there? She was certain that half the time, her husband felt the same way. She'd never yielded to anything human before, and she wasn't about to start with a building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She was beginning to wish she hadn't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The conversation was dull and the musicians amateurish at best. The sommelier the host had hired for the evening had done a decent job at least, providing a selection of passable blues and violets, the latter of which she was currently on her third glass of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some people grew jovial when they drank, laughed too loud and wanted to be everyone's best friends. Some people flew into a rage, or quickly grew numb and downcast, watching the world drift past in a glowing haze of drink. Brightness Kavhidic didn't do any of those things. When she drank, she didn't feel any different. Her tongue, however, grew sharper, and the little petty acts against those foolish enough to allow themselves to be weak around her grew more frequent. She was more herself when she drank. Less weighed down by the rigid constraints of status and society. It was easier to take the simple, joyous pleasure she longed for in witnessing others' pain and humiliation. Consequences disappeared after three glasses of violet, and really, life was better off without them anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> As her innebriation grew, small talk became much more tolerable. Not because the conversations became more interesting, but because she was less afraid to tell one Brightlady that she thought her very thrifty for recycling the havah she had seen her in three gatherings ago. Less afraid to grab a slave girl's arm just a little too tight when she asked her to bring more wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Things only started to become actually exciting when she spotted one Adolin Kholin. Excitement thrummed in her at the sight of him. The highprince and son of Urithiru's king actually mixing in the proper circles. Who would've thought it! She had met with him and his wife several times - her husband's business of trading in exotic fine art made them very wealthy, even for lighteyes, which in turn made them people worth listening to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was unsurprised therefore, when she saw him making his way towards her, glass of yellow in his hand, dressed as if he were at a courtly ball as opposed to a gathering of bored minor lighteyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Good evening Brightness," he said, flashing her a hint of the smile she'd heard had taken the Kholin warcamp by storm before he settled down with that wife of his. She was a mousy little thing by most standards, and not even Alethi. She didn't know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>he saw in her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Good evening Brightlord," she said, giving him a much more restrained smile of her own, "I am surprised to find you here." the words dripped disdain, but that was all part of the fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes, well, the hostess is a friend of mine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> From what Brightness Khavadic had heard, they'd been </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>more than friends, "Well of course, it is wonderful to see you high prince." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "The pleasure is all mine," he said, and there was something darkly twisted showing through that smile of his, something she only just managed to spot, that told her she should probably remain quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You know, my wife has a very gifted mind," he said, and she was a little taken aback by the swerve in conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She went with it, "I did get that impression from her. A fine young woman indeed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes, she has a very good head for figures. And a keen interest in art." he sipped at his wine, eyes scanning the crowded room pensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Good pursuits for any woman," Brightness Khavadic said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Yes," he agreed, "She was telling me all about you and your husband's business an dart trading. Like, for example, how a painting can be an investment," another sip, her heart shivered as he spoke, "How really, their inherent value is limited. Their value is in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>story </span>
  </em>
  <span>that comes with them." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He set his now empty glass down with a click. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "It's interesting, how much the value of a painting can be manipulated by a dishonest party should they so wish it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What are you trying to say?" she could feel ice flooding through her veins, the sort of cold dread that got stuck, prickling in your throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just how easy it is to diminish the price of a work in a foreign market by, for example, flooding it with illegal fraudulent copies, leaving you free to buy the real thing. How simple it then is, to arrange an 'accident' for the artist, to publicise their work in Alethkar, to make it the stuff of legends. To sell it at an impossibly high price." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She swallowed dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Such a shame if it were to be discovered on of our own partook in such an act," he said, still not looking at her, "There would be time in the cells. Seizure of assets. And I imagine the individual's wealthy friends would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> upset to learn they'd been played." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "What do you want," she whispered, pale and trembling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Oh, not much," he said, turning that easy smile back on her, "Only to see your face when you find out you've been ruined." he gave her a curt nod, "You have more than delivered Brightness. Thank you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He paused only once on his way out, whispering in her ear, "Alethkar will no longer tolerate cruelty, Brightness. Tell your friends to watch their backs."</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know nothing about money crimes other than that rich people think they're a bigger deal than literally anything that could plausibly happen to a poor person lol,  so don't come at me for a lack of realism if you happen to know more 😂</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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